JL> 


MOONSHINE  &  CLOVER 


This  selection  of  fairy-tales  is 
reprinted  from  the  following 
original  editions,  now  out  of 
print  : 

A  Farm  in  Fairyland  (1894) 

The  House  of  Joy  (1895) 

The  Field  of  Clover  (1898) 

The  Blue  Moon  ('904) 


&  CLOVER 

LAURENCE  HOUSMAM 


MOONSHINE 


NEW  YORK 
HARCOURT.  BRACE  &  COMPANY 


Mad*  and 

Printed  in  Great  Britain  by  HiuU.  WaHon  &•  Vine;.  I.J. 
London  and  Aylakury. 


College 
Library 


Hi 

CONTENTS 


PICK 


THE  PRINCE  WITH  THE  NINE  SORROWS  13 
How  LITTLE  DUKE  JARL  SAVED  THE  CASTLE        27 

A  CAPFUL  OF  MOONSHINE  37 

THE  STORY.  OF  THE  HERONS  47 

THE  CROWN'S  WARRANTY  70 

ROCKING-HORSE  LAND  83 

JAPONEL  95 

GAMMELYN,  THE  DRESSMAKER  103 

THE  FEEDING  OF  THE  EMIGRANTS  113 

WHITE  BIRCH  119 

THE  LUCK  OF  THE  ROSES  129 

THE  WHITE  DOE  138 

THE  MOON-STROKE  153 

THE  GENTLE  COCKATRICE  164 

THE  GREEN  BIRD  177 

THE  MAN  WHO  KILLED  THE  CUCKOO  187 

A  CHINESE  FAIRY-TALE  198 

HAPPY  RETURNS  211 

ii 

1348890 


THE  PRINCE  WITH  THE  NINE 
SORROWS 

"  Eight  white  peahens  went  down  to  the  gate : 
'  Wait ! '   they  said,  '  little  sister,  wait !  ' 
They  covered  her  up  with  feathers  so  fine  ; 
And  none  went  out,  when  there  went  back  nine." 

ALONG  time   ago  there  lived    a   King  and 
a  Queen,  who  had  an  only  son.     As  soon 
as  he  was  born  his  mother  gave  him  to  the 
forester's  wife  to  be  nursed ;    for  she  herself  had 
to  wear  her  crown  all  day  and  had  no  time  for 
nursing.     The  forester's  wife  had  just  given  birth 
to  a  little  daughter  of  her  own  ;   but  she  loved  both 
children    equally   and   nursed   them   together   like 
twins. 

One  night  the  Queen  had  a  dream  that  made  the 
half  of  her  hair  turn  grey.  She  dreamed  that  she 
saw  the  Prince  her  son  at  the  age  of  twenty  lying 
dead  with  a  wound  over  the  place  of  his  heart ; 
and  near  him  his  foster-sister  was  standing,  with  a 
royal  crown  on  her  head,  and  his  heart  bleeding 
between  her  hands. 

The  next  morning  the  Queen  sent  in  great  haste 
for  the  family  Fairy,  and  told  her  of  the  dream. 
The  Fairy  said,  "  This  can  have  but  one  meaning, 
and  it  is  an  evil  one.  There  is  some  danger  that 
threatens  your  son's  life  in  his  twentieth  year,  and 
his  foster-sister  is  to  be  the  cause  of  it ;  also,  it 
seems  she  is  to  make  herself  Queen.  But  leave  her 

'3 


to  me,  and  I  will  avert  the  evil  chance ;  for  the 
dream  coming  beforehand  shows  that  the  Fates 
mean  that  he  should  be  saved." 

The  Queen  said,  "  Do  anything ;  only  do  not 
destroy  the  forester's  wife's  child,  for,  as  yet  at  least, 
she  has  done  no  wrong.  Let  her  only  be  carried 
away  to  a  safe  place  and  made  secure  and  treated 
well.  I  will  not  have  my  son's  happiness  grow  out 
of  another  one's  grave." 

The  Fairy  said,  "  Nothing  is  so  safe  as  a  grave 
when  the  Fates  are  about.  Still,  I  think  I  can 
make  everything  quite  safe  within  reason,  and  leave 
you  a  clean  as  well  as  a  quiet  conscience." 

The  little  Prince  and  the  forester's  daughter 
grew  up  together  till  they  were  a  year  old ;  then, 
one  day,  when  their  nurse  came  to  look  for  them, 
the  Prince  was  found,  but  his  foster-sister  was 
lost ;  and  though  the  search  for  her  was  long,  she 
was  never  seen  again,  nor  could  any  trace  of  her 
be  found. 

The  baby  Prince  pined  and  pined,  and  was  so 
sorrowful  over  her  loss  that  they  feared  for  a  time 
that  he  was  going  to  die.  But  his  foster-mother, 
in  spite  of  her  grief  over  her  own  child's  disap- 
pearance, nursed  him  so  well  and  loved  him  so  much 
that  after  a  while  he  recovered  his  strength. 

Then  the  forester's  wife  gave  birth  to  another 
daughter,  as  if  to  console  herself  for  the  loss  of  the 
first.  But  the  same  night  that  the  child  was  born 
the  Queen  had  just  the  same  dream  over  again. 
She  dreamed  that  she  saw  her  son  lying  dead  at 
the  age  of  twenty ;  and  there  was  the  wound  in 
his  breast,  and  the  forester's  daughter  was  stand- 

«4 


ing  by  with  his  heart  in  her  hand  and  a  royal  crown 
upon  her  head. 

The  poor  Queen's  hair  had  gone  quite  white 
when  she  sent  again  for  the  family  Fairy,  and  told 
her  how  the  dream  had  repeated  itself.  The  Fairy 
gave  her  the  same  advice  as  before,  quieting  her 
fears,  and  assuring  her  that  however  persistent  the 
Fates  might  be  in  threatening  the  Prince's  life,  all 
in  the  end  should  be  well. 

Before  another  year  was  passed  the  second  of  the 
forester's  daughters  had  disappeared ;  and  the 
Prince  and  his  foster-mother  cried  themselves  ill 
over  a  loss  that  had  been  so  cruelly  renewed.  The 
Queen,  seeing  how  great  were  the  sorrow  and  the 
love  that  the  Prince  bore  for  his  foster-sisters, 
began  to  doubt  in  her  heart  and  say,  "  What  have 
I  done  F  Have  I  saved  my  son's  life  by  taking 
away  his  heart  ?  " 

Now  every  year  the  same  thing  took  place,  the 
forester's  wife  giving  birth  to  a  daughter,  and  the 
Queen  on  the  same  night  having  the  same  fearful 
dream  of  the  fate  that  threatened  her  son  in  his 
twentieth  year ;  and  afterwards  the  family  Fairy 
would  come,  and  then  one  day  the  forester's  wife's 
child  would  disappear,  and  be  heard  of  no  more. 

At  last  when  nine  daughters  in  all  had  been  born 
to  the  forester's  wife  and  lost  to  her  when  they 
were  but  a  year  old,  the  Queen  fell  very  ill.  Every 
day  she  grew  weaker  and  weaker,  and  the  little 
Prince  came  and  sat  by  her,  holding  her  hand  and 
looking  at  her  with  a  sorrowful  face.  At  last  one 
night  (it  was  just  a  year  after  the  last  of  the  forester's 
children  had  disappeared)  she  woke  suddenly, 


stretching  out  her  arms  and  crying.  "  Oh,  Fairy," 
she  cried,  "  the  dream,  the  dream !  "  And  cover- 
ing her  face  with  her  hands,  she  died. 

The  little  Prince  was  now  more  than  ten  years 
old,  and  the  very  saddest  of  mortals.  He  said  that 
there  were  nine  sorrows  hidden  in  his  heart,  of 
which  he  could  not  get  rid ;  and  that  at  night, 
when  all  the  birds  went  home  to  roost,  he  heard 
cries  of  lamentation  and  pain  ;  but  whether  these 
came  from  very  far  away,  or  out  of  his  own  heart 
he  could  not  tell. 

Yet  he  grew  slenderly  and  well,  and  had  such 
grace  and  tenderness  in  his  nature  that  all  who 
saw  him  loved  him.  His  foster-mother,  when  he 
spoke  to  her  of  his  nine  sorrows,  tried  to  comfort 
him,  calling  him  her  own  nine  joys ;  and,  indeed, 
he  was  all  the  joy  left  in  life  for  her. 

When  the  Prince  neared  his  twentieth  year,  the 
King  his  father  felt  that  he  himself  was  becoming 
old  and  weary  of  life.  "  I  shall  not  live  much 
longer,"  he  thought  :  "  very  soon  my  son  will  be 
left  alone  in  the  world.  It  is  right,  therefore,  now 
that  he  should  know  of  the  danger  ahead  that 
threatens  his  life."  For  till  then  the  Prince  had 
not  known  anything ;  all  had  been  kept  a  secret 
between  the  Queen  and  the  King  and  the  family 
Fairy. 

The  old  King  knew  of  the  Prince's  nine  sorrows, 
and  often  he  tried  to  believe  that  they  came  by 
chance,  and  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  secret  that 
sat  at  the  root  of  his  son's  life.  But  now  he  feared 
more  and  more  to  tell  the  Prince  the  story  of  those 
nine  dreams,  lest  the  knowledge  should  indeed 

16 


serve  but  as  the  crowning  point  of  his  sorrows, 
and  altogether  break  his  heart  for  him. 

Yet  there  was  so  much  danger  in  leaving  the 
thing  untold  that  at  last  he  summoned  the  Prince 
to  his  bedside,  meaning  to  tell  him  all.  The  King 
had  worn  himself  so  ill  with  anxiety  and  grief  in 
thinking  over  the  matter,  that  now  to  tell  all  was 
the  only  means  of  saving  his  life. 

The  Prince  came  and  knelt  down,  and  leaned  his 
head  on  his  father's  pillow ;  and  the  King  whis- 
pered into  his  ear  the  story  of  the  dreams,  and  of 
how  for  his  sake  all  the  Prince's  foster-sisters  had 
been  spirited  away. 

Before  his  tale  was  done  he  could  no  longer  bear 
to  look  into  his  son's  face,  but  closed  his  eyes,  and, 
with  long  silences  between,  spoke  as  one  who  prayed. 

When  he  had  ended  he  lay  quite  still,  and  the 
Prince  kissed  his  closed  eyelids  and  went  softly  out 
of  the  room. 

"  Now  I  know,"  he  said  to  himself ;  "  now  at 
last ! "  And  he  came  through  the  wood  and 
knocked  at  his  foster-mother's  door.  "  Other 
mother,"  he  said  to  her,  "  give  me  a  kiss  for  each 
of  my  sisters,  for  now  I  am  going  out  into  the 
world  to  find  them,  to  be  rid  of  the  sorrows  in 
my  heart." 

"  They  can  never  be  found  !  "  she  cried,  but 
she  kissed  him  nine  times.  "  And  this,"  she  said, 
"  was  Monica,  and  this  was  Ponica,  and  this  was 
Veronica,"  and  so  she  went  over  every  name. 
"But  now  they  are  only  names !  "  she  wept,  as 
she  let  him  go. 

He  went  along,  and  he  went  along,  mile  after 


mile.  "  Where  may  you  be  going  to,  fair  sir  ?  " 
asked  an  old  peasant,  at  whose  cabin  the  Prince 
sought  shelter  when  night  came  to  the  first  day  of 
his  wanderings.  "  Truly,"  answered  the  Prince, 
"  I  do  not  know  how  far  or  whither  I  need  to  go  ; 
but  I  have  a  finger-post  in  my  heart  that  keeps 
pointing  me." 

So  that  night  he  stayed  there,  and  the  next  day 
he  went  on. 

"  Where  to  so  fast  ? J!l  asked  a  woodcutter  when 
the  second  night  found  him  in  the  thickest  and 
loneliest  parts  of  the  forest.  "  Here  the  night  is 
so  dark  and  the  way  so  dangerous,  one  like  you 
should  not  go  alone." 

"  Nay,  I  know  nothing,"  said  the  Prince,  "  only 
I  feel  like  a  weather-cock  in  a  wind  that  keeps 
turning  me  to  its  will !  " 

After  many  days  he  came  to  a  small  long  valley 
rich  in  woods  and  water-courses,  but  no  road  ran 
through  it.  More  and  more  it  seemed  like  the 
world's  end,  a  place  unknown,  or  forgotten  of  its 
old  inhabitants.  Just  at  the  end  of  the  valley, 
where  the  woods  opened  into  clear  slopes  and 
hollows  towards  the  west,  he  saw  before  him,  low 
and  overgrown,  the  walls  of  a  little  tumble-down 
grange.  "  There,"  he  said  to  himself  when  he 
saw  it,  "  I  can  find  shelter  for  to-night.  Never 
have  I  felt  so  tired  before,  or  such  a  pain  at  my 
heart !  " 

Before  long  he  came  to  a  little  gate,  and  a  winding 
path  that  led  in  among  lawns  and  trees  to  the  door 
of  an  old  house.  The  house  seemed  as  if  it  had 
been  once  lived  in,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  any 

18 


life  about  it  now.  He  pushed  open  the  door,  and 
suddenly  there  was  a  sharp  rustling  of  feathers,  and 
nine  white  peahens  rose  up  from  the  ground  and 
flew  out  of  the  window  into  the  garden. 

The  Prince  searched  the  whole  house  over,  and 
found  it  a  mere  ruin ;  the  only  signs  of  life  to  be 
seen  were  the  white  feathers  that  lifted  and  blew 
about  over  the  floors. 

Outside,  the  garden  was  gathering  itself  together 
in  the  dusk,  and  the  peahens  were  stepping  daintily 
about  the  lawns,  picking  here  and  there  between 
the  blades  of  grass.  They  seemed  to  suit  the 
gentle  sadness  of  the  place,  which  had  an  air  of 
grief  that  has  grown  at  ease  with  itself. 

The  Prince  went  out  into  the  garden,  and  walked 
about  among  the  quietly  stepping  birds ;  but  they 
took  no  heed  of  him.  They  came  picking  up  their 
food  between  his  very  feet,  as  though  he  were  not 
there.  Silence  held  all  the  air,  and  in  the  cleft  of 
the  valley  the  day  drooped  to  its  end. 

Just  before  it  grew  dark,  the  nine  white  peahens 
gathered  together  at  the  foot  of  a  great  elm,  and 
lifting  up  their  throats  they  wailed  in  chorus. 
Their  lamentable  cry  touched  the  Prince's  heart ; 
"Where,"  he  asked  himself,  "have  I  heard  such 
sorrow  before  ?  "  Then  all  with  one  accord  the 
birds  sprang  rustling  up  to  the  lowest  boughs  of 
the  elm,  and  settled  themselves  to  roost. 

The  Prince  went  back  to  the  house,  to  find  some 
corner  amid  its  half-ruined  rooms  to  sleep  in.  But 
there  the  air  was  close,  and  an  unpleasant  smell  of 
moisture  came  from  the  floor  and  walls  :  so,  the 
night  being  warm,  he  returned  to  the  garden,  and 

'9 


folding  himself  in  his  cloak  lay  down  under  the  tree 
where  the  nine  peahens  were  at  roost. 

For  a  long  time  he  tried  to  sleep,  but  could  not, 
there  was  so  much  pain  and  sorrow  in  his  heart. 

Presently  when  it  was  close  upon  midnight,  over 
his  head  one  of  the  birds  stirred  and  ruffled  through 
all  its  feathers ;  and  he  heard  a  soft  voice  say  : 

"  Sisters,  are  you  awake  ?  " 

All  the  other  peahens  lifted  their  heads,  and 
turned  towards  the  one  that  had  spoken,  saying, 
"  Yes,  sister,  we  are  awake." 

Then  the  first  one  said  again,  "  Our  brother  is 
here." 

They  all  said,  "  He  is  our  enemy ;  it  is  for  him 
that  we  endure  this  sorrow." 

'  To-night,"  said  the  first,  "  we  may  all  be  free." 

They  answered,  "  Yes,  we  may  all  be  free  !  Who 
will  go  down  and  peck  out  his  heart  ?  Then  we 
shall  be  free." 

And  the  first  who  had  spoken  said,  "  I  will  go 
down  !  " 

"  Do  not  fail,  sister  !  "  said  all  the  others.  "  For 
if  you  fail  you  can  speak  to  us  no  more." 

The  first  peahen  answered,  "  Do  not  fear  that  I 
shall  fail !  "  And  she  began  stepping  down  the  long 
boughs  of  the  elm. 

The  Prince  lying  below  heard  all  that  was  said. 
"  Ah  !  poor  sisters,"  he  thought,  "  have  I  found  you 
at  last ;  and  are  all  these  sorrows  brought  upon  you 
for  me  ?  "  And  he  unloosed  his  doublet,  and  opened 
his  vest,  making  his  breast  bare  for  the  peahen  to 
come  and  peck  out  his  heart. 

He  lay  quite  still  with  his  eyes  shut,  and  when 

20 


she  reached  the  ground  the  peahen  found  him  lying 
there,  as  it  seemed  to  her  fast  asleep,  with  his  white 
breast  bare  for  the  stroke  of  her  beak. 

Then  so  fair  he  looked  to  her,  and  so  gentle  in 
his  youth,  that  she  had  pity  on  him,  and  stood 
weeping  by  his  side,  and  laying  her  head  against 
his,  whispered,  "  O,  brother,  once  we  lay  as  babes 
together  and  were  nursed  at  the  same  breast ! 
How  can  I  peck  out  your  heart  ? " 

Then  she  stole  softly  back  into  the  tree,  and 
crouched  down  again  by  her  companions.  They 
said  to  her,  "  Our  minute  of  midnight  is  nearly  gone. 
Is  there  blood  on  your  beak !  Have  you  our  brother's 
heart  for  us  ?  "  But  the  other  answered  never  a 
word. 

In  the  morning  the  peahens  came  rustling  down 
out  of  the  elm,  and  went  searching  for  fat  carnation 
buds  and  anemone  seeds  among  the  flower-beds  in 
the  garden.  To  the  Prince  they  showed  no  sign 
either  of  hatred  or  fear,  but  went  to  and  fro  carelessly, 
pecking  at  the  ground  about  his  feet.  Only  one 
came  with  drooping  head  and  wings,  and  sleeked 
itself  to  his  caress,  and  the  Prince,  stooping  down, 
whispered  in  her  ear,  "  O,  sister,  why  did  you  not 
peck  out  my  heart  ?  " 

At  night,  as  before,  the  peahens  all  cried  in  chorus 
as  they  went  up  into  the  elm  ;  and  the  Prince  came 
and  wrapped  himself  in  his  cloak,  and  lay  down  at 
the  foot  of  it  to  watch. 

At  midnight  the  eight  peahens  lifted  their  heads, 
and  said,  "  Sister,  why  did  you  fail  last  night  ?  ' 
But  their  sister  gave  them  not  a  word. 

"  Alas !  "  they  said,  "  now  she  has  failed,  unless 

21 


one  of  us  succeed,  we  shall  never  hear  her  speak 
with  her  human  voice  again.  Why  is  it  that  you 
weep  so,"  they  said  again,  "  now  when  deliverance  is 
so  near  ?  "  For  the  poor  peahen  was  shaken  with 
weeping,  and  her  tears  fell  down  in  loud  drops  upon 
the  ground. 

Then  the  next  sister  said,  "  I  will  go  down  !  He 
is  asleep.  Be  certain,  I  will  not  fail !  "  So  she 
climbed  softly  down  the  tree,  and  the  Prince  opened 
his  shirt  and  laid  his  breast  bare  for  her  to  come  and 
take  out  his  heart. 

Presently  she  stood  by  his  side,  and  when  she  saw 
him,  she  too  had  pity  on  him  for  the  youth  and 
kindness  of  his  face.  And  once  she  shut  her  eyes, 
and  lifted  her  head  for  the  stroke  ;  but  then  weakness 
seized  her,  and  she  laid  her  head  softly  upon  his  heart 
and  said,  "  Once  the  breast  that  gave  me  milk  gave 
milk  also  to  you.  You  were  my  sister's  brother,  and 
she  spared  you.  How  can  I  peck  out  your  heart  ?  " 
And  having  said  this  she  went  softly  back  into  the 
tree,  and  crouched  down  again  among  her  sisters. 

They  said  to  her,  "  Have  you  blood  upon  your 
beak  ?  Is  his  heart  ours  ?  "  But  she  answered  them 
no  word. 

The  next  day  the  two  sisters,  who  because  their 
hearts  betrayed  them  had  become  mute,  followed 
the  Prince  wherever  he  went,  and  stretched  up 
their  heads  to  his  caress.  But  the  others  went  and 
came  indifferently,  careless  except  for  food  ;  for  until 
midnight  their  human  hearts  were  asleep  ;  only  now 
the  two  sisters  who  had  given  their  voices  away  had 
regained  their  human  hearts  perpetually. 

That  night  the  same  thing  happened  as  before. 

22 


"  Sisters,"  said  the  youngest,  "  to-night  I  will  go 
down,  since  the  two  eldest  of  us  have  failed.  My 
wrong  is  fresher  in  my  heart  than  theirs !  Be  sure 
I  shall  not  fail !  "  So  the  youngest  peahen  came 
down  from  the  tree,  and  the  Prince  laid  his  heart 
bare  for  her  beak ;  but  the  bird  could  not  find  the 
will  to  peck  it  out.  And  so  it  was  the  next  night, 
and  the  next,  until  eight  nights  were  gone. 

So  at  last  only  one  peahen  was  left.  At  midnight 
she  raised  her  head,  saying,  "  Sisters,  are  you 
awake  ?  " 

They  all  turned,  and  gazed  at  her  weeping,  but 
could  say  no  word. 

Then  she  said,  "  You  have  all  failed,  having  all 
tried  but  me.  Now  if  I  fail  we  shall  remain  mute 
and  captive  for  ever,  more  undone  by  the  loss  of 
our  last  remaining  gift  of  speech  than  we  were  at 
first.  But  I  tell  you,  dear  sisters,  I  will  not  fail ; 
for  the  happiness  of  you  all  lies  with  me  now  !  " 

Then  she  went  softly  down  the  tree  ;  and  one  by 
one  they  all  went  following  her,  and  weeping,  to 
see  what  the  end  would  be. 

They  stood  some  way  apart,  watching  with 
upturned  heads,  and  their  poor  throats  began  catch- 
ing back  a  wish  to  cry  as  the  little  peahen,  the  last 
of  the  sisters,  came  and  stood  by  the  Prince. 

Then  she,  too,  looked  in  his  face,  and  saw  the  white 
breast  made  bare  for  her  beak  ;  and  the  love  of  him 
went  deep  down  into  her  heart.  And  she  tried  and 
tried  to  shut  her  eyes  and  deal  the  stroke,  but  could 
not. 

She  trembled  and  sighed,  and  turned  to  look  at 
her  sisters,  where  they  all  stood  weeping  silently 

23 


together.  "  They  have  spared  him,"  she  said  to 
herself  :  "  why  should  not  I  ?  " 

But  the  Prince,  seeing  that  she,  too,  was  about  to 
fail  like  the  rest  of  them,  turned  and  said,  as  if  in  his 
sleep,  "  Come,  come,  little  peahen,  and  peck  out  my 
heart !  " 

At  that  she  turned  back  again  to  him,  and  laid  her 
head  down  upon  his  heart  and  cried  more  sadly  than 
them  all. 

Then  he  said,  "  You  have  eight  sisters,  and  a 
mother  who  cries  for  her  children  to  return  !  "  Yet 
still  she  thought  he  was  dreaming,  and  speaking  only 
in  his  sleep.  The  other  peahens  came  no  nearer, 
but  stood  weeping  silently.  She  looked  from  him  to 
them.  "  O,"  she  cried,  "  I  have  a  wicked  heart,  to 
let  one  stand  in  the  way  of  nine  !  "  Then  she  threw 
up  her  neck  and  cried  lamentably  with  her  peafowl's 
voice,  wishing  that  the  Prince  would  wake  up  and 
see  her,  and  so  escape.  And  at  that  all  the  other 
peahens  lifted  up  their  heads  and  wailed  with  her  : 
but  the  Prince  never  turned,  nor  lifted  a  finger,  nor 
uttered  a  sound. 

Then  she  drew  in  a  deep  breath,  and  closed  her 
eyes  fast.  "  Let  my  sisters  go,  but  let  me  be  as  I 
am  !  "  she  cried  ;  and  with  that  she  stooped  down, 
and  pecked  out  his  heart. 

All  her  sisters  shrieked  as  their  human  shapes 
returned  to  them.  "  O,  sister !  O,  wicked  little 
sister  !  "  they  cried,  "  What  have  you  done  ?  " 

The  little  white  peahen  crouched  close  down  to  the 
side  of  the  dead  Prince.  "  I  loved  him  more  than 
you  all !  "  she  tried  to  say  :  but  she  only  lifted  her 
head,  and  wailed  again  and  again  the  peafowl's  cry. 


The  Prince's  heart  lay  beating  at  her  feet,  so  glad 
to  be  rid  of  its  nine  sorrows  that  mere  joy  made  it 
live  on,  though  all  the  rest  of  the  body  lay  cold. 

The  peahen  leaned  down  upon  the  Prince's  breast, 
and  there  wailed  without  ceasing  :  then  suddenly, 
piercing  with  her  beak  her  own  breast,  she  drew  out 
her  own  living  heart  and  laid  it  in  the  place  where 
his  had  been. 

And,  as  she  did  so,  the  wound  where  she  had 
pierced  him  closed  and  became  healed ;  and  her 
heart  was,  as  it  were,  buried  in  the  Prince's  breast. 
In  her  death  agony  she  could  feel  it  there,  her  own 
heart  leaping  within  his  breast  for  joy. 

The  Prince,  who  had  seemed  to  be  dead,  flushed 
from  head  to  foot  as  the  warmth  of  life  came  back 
to  him  ;  with  one  deep  breath  he  woke,  and  found 
the  little  white  peahen  lying  as  if  dead  between  his 
arms. 

Then  he  laughed  softly  and  rose  (his  goodness 
making  him  wise),  and  taking  up  his  own  still  beating 
heart  he  laid  it  into  the  place  of  hers.  At  the  first 
beat  of  it  within  her  breast,  the  peahen  became  trans- 
formed as  all  her  sisters  had  been,  and  her  own 
human  form  came  back  to  her.  And  the  pain  and 
the  wound  in  her  breast  grew  healed  together,  so  that 
she  stood  up  alive  and  well  in  the  Prince's  arms. 

"  Dear  heart !  "  said  he  :  and  "  Dear,  dear 
heart  !  "  said  she ;  but  whether  they  were  speaking 
of  their  own  hearts  or  of  each  other's,  who  can  tell  ? 
for  which  was  which  they  themselves  did  not  know. 

Then  all  round  was  so  much  embracing  and  happi- 
ness that  it  is  out  of  reach  for  tongue  or  pen  to 
describe.  For  truly  the  Prince  and  his  foster-sisters 

25 


loved  each  other  well,  and  could  put  no  bounds 
upon  their  present  contentment.  As  for  the  Prince 
and  the  one  who  had  plucked  out  his  heart,  of  no 
two  was  the  saying  ever  more  truly  told  that  they 
had  lost  their  hearts  to  each  other  ;  nor  was  ever  love 
in  the  world  known  before  that  carried  with  it  such 
harmony  as  theirs. 

And  so  it  all  came  about  according  to  the  Queen's 
dream,  that  the  forester's  daughter  wore  the  royal 
crown  upon  her  head,  and  held  the  Prince's  heart 
in  her  hand. 

Long  before  he  died  the  old  King  was  made  happy 
because  the  dream  he  had  so  much  feared  had 
become  true.  And  the  forester's  wife  was  happy 
before  she  died.  And  as  for  the  Prince  and  his  wife 
and  his  foster-sisters,  they  were  all  rather  happy ; 
and  none  of  them  is  dead  yet. 


26 


HOW  LITTLE    DUKE    JARL    SAVED    THE 
CASTLE 

DUKE  JARL  had  found  a  good  roost  for 
himself  when  his  long  work  of  expelling 
the  invader  was  ended.  Seawards  and  below 
the  town,  in  the  mouth  of  the  river,  stood  a  rock, 
thrusting  out  like  a  great  tusk  ready  to  rip  up  any 
armed  vessel  that  sought  passage  that  way.  On  the 
top  of  this  he  had  built  himself  a  castle,  and  its  roots 
went  deep,  deep  down  into  the  solid  stone.  No  man 
knew  how  deep  the  deepest  of  the  foundations  went ; 
but  wherever  they  were,  just  there  was  old  Duke 
Jarl's  sleeping-chamber.  Thither  he  had  gone  to 
sleep  when  the  world  no  longer  needed  him ;  and 
he  had  not  yet  returned. 

That  was  three  hundred  years  ago,  and  still  the 
solid  rock  vaulted  the  old  warrior's  slumber ;  and 
over  his  head  men  talked  of  him,  and  told  how  he 
was  reserving  the  strength  of  his  old  age  till  his 
country  should  again  call  for  him. 

The  call  seemed  to  come  now  ;  for  his  descendant, 
little  Duke  Jarl  the  Ninth,  was  but  a  child ;  and 
being  in  no  fear  of  him,  the  invader  had  returned, 
and  the  castle  stood  besieged.  Also,  farther  than 
the  eye  could  see  from  the  topmost  tower,  the  land 
lay  all  overrun,  its  richness  laid  waste  by  armed 
bands  who  gathered  in  its  harvest  by  the  sword,  and 
the  town  itself  lay  under  tribute ;  from  the  tower 
one  could  see  the  busy  quays,  and  the  enemy  load- 
ing his  ships  with  rich  merchandise. 

27 


Sent  up  there  to  play  in  safety,  little  Duke  Jarl 
could  not  keep  his  red  head  from  peering  over  the 
parapet.  He  began  making  fierce  faces  at  the  enemy 
— he  was  still  too  young  to  fight  :  and  quick  a  grey 
goose-shaft  came  and  sang  its  shrill  song  at  his  ear. 
So  close  had  it  gone  that  a  little  of  the  ducal  blood 
trickled  out  over  his  collar.  His  face  worked  with 
rage ;  leaning  far  out  over  the  barrier,  he  began 
shouting,  "  I  will  tell  Duke  Jarl  of  you  !  "  till  an  at- 
tendant ran  up  and  snatched  him  away  from  danger. 

Things  were  going  badly  :  the  castle  was  cut  off 
from  the  land,  and  on  the  seaward  side  the  foe  had 
built  themselves  a  great  mole  within  which  their 
warships  could  ride  at  anchor  safe  from  the  reach  of 
storm.  Thus  there  was  no  way  left  by  which  help 
or  provender  could  come  in. 

Little  Duke  Jarl  saw  men  round  him  growing 
more  gaunt  and  thin  day  by  day,  but  he  did  not 
understand  why,  till  he  chanced  once  upon  a  soldier 
gnawing  a  foul  bone  for  the  stray  bits  of  meat  that 
clung  to  it ;  then  he  learned  that  all  in  the  castle 
except  himself  had  been  put  upon  quarter-rations, 
though  every  day  there  was  more  and  more  fighting 
work  to  be  done. 

So  that  day  when  the  usual  white  bread  and 
savouries  were  brought  to  him,  he  flung  them  all 
downstairs,  telling  the  cook  that  the  day  he  really 
became  Duke  he  would  have  his  head  off  if  he  ever 
dared  to  send  him  anything  again  but  the  common 
fare. 

Hearing  of  it,  the  old  Chief  Constable  picked  up 
little  Master  Ninth  Duke  between  finger  and 
thumb,  and  laughed,  holding  him  in  the  air. 

28 


"  With  you  alive,"  said  he,  "  we  shall  not  have  to 
wake  Duke  Jarl  after  all !  "  The  little  Duke  asked 
when  he  would  let  him  have  a  sword ;  and  the 
Constable  clapped  his  cheeks  and  ran  back  cheer- 
fully at  a  call  from  the  palisades. 

But  others  carried  heavy  looks,  thinking,  "  Long 
before  his  fair  promise  can  come  to  anything  our 
larders  will  be  empty  and  our  walls  gone !  " 

It  was  no  great  time  after  this  that  the  Duke's 
Constable  was  the  only  man  who  saw  reason  in 
holding  out.  That  became  known  all  through  the 
castle,  and  the  cook,  honest  fellow,  brought  up 
little  Jarl's  dinner  one  day  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 
He  set  down  his  load  of  dainties.  "  It  is  no  use !  " 
said  he,  "  you  may  as  well  eat  to-day,  since  to- 
morrow we  give  up  the  castle." 

"  Who  dares  to  say  '  we '  ?  "  cried  little  Duke 
Jarl,  springing  to  his  feet. 

"  All  but  the  Constable,"  said  the  cook  ;  "  even 
now  they  are  in  the  council-hall,  trying  to  make 
him  see  reason.  Whether  or  no,  they  will  not  let 
him  hold  on." 

Little  Jarl  found  the  doors  of  the  great  hall 
barred  to  the  thunderings  of  his  small  fist  :  for,  in 
truth,  these  men  could  not  bear  to  look  upon  one 
who  had  in  his  veins  the  blood  of  old  Duke  Jarl, 
when  they  were  about  to  give  up  his  stronghold 
to  the  enemy. 

So  little  Jarl  made  his  way  up  to  the  bowery, 
where  was  a  minstrel's  window  looking  down  into 
the  hall.  Sticking  out  his  head  so  that  he  might 
see  down  to  where  the  council  was  sitting,  "  If  you 
give  up  the  castle,  I  will  tell  Duke  Jarl !  "  he  cried. 

31 


Hearing  his  young  master's  voice,  the  Constable 
raised  his  eyes ;  but  not  able  to  see  him  for  tears 
in  them,  called  out  :  "  Tell  him  quick,  for  here 
it  is  all  against  one  !  Only  for  one  day  more  have 
they  promised  to  follow  my  bidding,  and  keep  the 
carrion  crows  from  coming  to  Jarl's  nest." 

And  even  as  he  spoke  came  the  renewed  cry  of 
attack,  and  the  answering  shout  of  "  Jarl,  Jarl !  " 
from  the  defenders  upon  the  walls.  Then  all  leapt 
up,  overturning  the  council-board,  and  ran  out  to 
the  battlements  to  carry  on  with  what  courage  was 
left  to  them  a  hopeless  contest  for  one  more  day. 

Little  Duke  Jarl  remained  like  a  beating  heart 
in  the  great  empty  keep.  He  ran  wildly  from 
room  to  room,  calling  in  rage  and  desperation  on 
old  Jarl  to  return  and  fight.  From  roof  to  base- 
ment he  ran,  commanding  the  spirit  of  his  ancestor 
to  appear,  till  at  last  he  found  himself  in  the  deepest 
cellars  of  all.  Down  there  he  could  hear  but 
faintly  the  sound  of  the  fighting ;  yet  it  seemed  to 
him  that  through  the  stone  he  could  hear  the  slow 
booming  of  the  sea,  and  as  he  went  deeper  into  the 
castle's  foundations  the  louder  had  grown  its  note. 
"  Does  the  sea  come  in  all  the  way  under  the  castle  ?" 
he  wondered.  "  Oh  that  it  would  sap  the  founda- 
tions and  sink  castle  and  all,  rather  than  let  them 
give  up  old  Jarl's  stronghold  to  his  enemies !  " 

All  was  quite  dark  here,  where  the  castle  stood 
embedded ;  but  now  and  then  little  Duke  Jarl 
could  feel  a  puff  of  wind  on  his  face,  and  presently 
he  was  noticing  how  it  came,  as  if  timed  to  the 
booming  of  the  sea  underneath  :  whenever  came 
the  sound  of  a  breaking  wave,  with  it  came  a 

32 


draught  of  air.  He  wondered  if,  so  low  down, 
there  might  not  be  some  secret  opening  to  the 
shore. 

Groping  in  the  direction  of  the  gusts,  his  feet 
came  upon  stairs.  So  low  and  narrow  was  the 
entrance,  he  had  to  turn  sideways  and  stoop ;  but 
when  he  had  burrowed  through  a  thickness  of  wall 
he  was  able  to  stand  upright ;  and  again  he  found 
stairs  leading  somewhere. 

Down,  these  led  down.  He  had  never  been  so 
low  before.  And  what  a  storm  there  must  be 
outside  !  Against  these  walls  the  thunders  of  the 
sea  grew  so  loud  he  could  no  longer  hear  the  tramp 
of  his  own  feet  descending. 

And  now  the  wind  came  at  him  in  great  gusts ; 
first  came  the  great  boom  of  the  sea,  and  then  a 
blast  of  air.  The  way  twisted  and  circled,  making 
his  head  giddy  for  a  fall ;  his  feet  slipped  on  the 
steepness  and  slime  of  the  descent,  and  at  each 
turn  the  sound  grew  more  appalling,  and  the 
driving  force  of  the  wind  more  and  more  like  the 
stroke  of  a  man's  fist. 

Presently  the  shock  of  it  threw  him  from  his 
standing,  so  that  he  had  to  lie  down  and  slide  feet 
foremost,  clinging  with  his  eyelids  and  nails  to 
break  the  violence  of  his  descent.  And  now  the 
air  was  so  full  of  thunder  that  his  teeth  shook  in 
their  sockets,  and  his  bones  jarred  in  his  flesh.  The 
darkness  growled  and  roared  ;  the  wind  kept  lift- 
ing him  backwards — the  force  of  it  seemed  almost 
to  flay  the  skin  off  his  face ;  and  still  he  went  on, 
throwing  his  full  weight  against  the  air  ahead. 

Then  for  a  moment  he  felt  himself  letting  go 

c  33 


altogether  :  solid  walls  slipping  harshly  past  him 
in  the  darkness,  he  fell ;  and  came  headlong, 
crashed  and  bruised,  to  a  standstill. 

At  first  his  brain  was  all  in  a  mist ;  then,  raising 
himself,  he  saw  a  dim  blue  light  falling  through  a 
low  vaulted  chamber.  At  the  end  of  it  sat  old 
Jarl,  like  adamant  in  slumber.  His  head  was  down 
on  his  breast,  buried  in  a  great  burning  bush  of 
hair  and  beard  ;  his  hands,  gripping  the  arms  of 
his  iron  throne,  had  twisted  them  like  wire ;  and 
the  weight  of  his  feet  where  they  rested  had  hol- 
lowed a  socket  in  the  stone  floor  for  them  to  sink 
into. 

All  his  hair  and  his  armour  shone  with  a  red- 
and-blue  flame ;  and  the  light  of  him  struck  the 
vaulting  and  the  floor  like  the  rays  of  a  torch  as  it 
burns.  Over  his  head  a  dark  tunnel,  bored  in  the 
solid  rock,  reached  up  a  hollow  throat  seawards. 
But  not  by  that  way  came  the  wind  and  the  sound 
of  the  sea  ;  it  was  old  Jarl  himself,  breathing  peace- 
fully in  his  sleep,  waiting  for  the  hour  which  should 
call  his  strength  to  life. 

Young  Duke  Jarl  ran  swiftly  across  the  chamber, 
and  struck  old  JarPs  knees,  crying,  "  Wake,  Jarl ! 
or  the  castle  will  be  taken  !  "  But  the  sleeper 
did  not  stir.  Then  he  climbed  the  iron  bars  of  the 
Duke's  chair,  and  reaching  high,  caught  hold  of 
the  red  beard.  "  Forefather  ! J>  he  cried,  "  wake, 
or  the  castle  will  be  betrayed  !  " 

But  still  old  Duke  Jarl  snored  a  drowsy  hurri- 
cane. 

Then  little  Jarl  sprang  upon  his  knee,  and  seiz- 
ing him  by  the  head,  pulled  to  move  its  dead 

34 


weight,  and  finding  he  could  not,  struck  him  ful 
on  the  mouth,  crying,  "  Jarl,  Jarl,  old  thunder- 
bolt !  wake,  or  you  will  betray  the  castle  !  " 

At  that  old  Jarl  hitched  himself  in  his  seat,  and 
"  Humph  !  "  cried  he,  drawing  in  a  deep  breath. 

In  rushed  the  wind  whistling  from  the  sea,  and 
all  down  the  way  by  which  little  Duke  Jarl  had 
come ;  like  the  wings  of  cranes  flying  homewards 
in  spring,  so  it  whistled  when  old  Jarl  drew  in  his 
breath. 

Off  his  knee  dropped  little  Ninth  Jarl,  buffeted 
speechless  to  earth.  And  old  Jarl,  letting  go  a 
breath,  settled  himself  back  to  slumber. 

Far  up  overhead,  at  the  darkening-in  of  night, 
the  besiegers  saw  the  eyes  of  the  castle  flash  red 
for  an  instant,  and  shut  again  ;  then  they  heard 
the  castle-rock  bray  out  like  a  great  trumpet,  and 
they  trembled,  crying,  "  That  is  old  Jarl's  war- 
horn  ;  he  is  awake  out  of  slumber  !  " 

They  had  reason  enough  to  fear ;  for  suddenly 
upon  their  ships-of-war  there  crashed,  as  though 
out  of  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  wind  and  a  black 
sandblast ;  and  coming,  it  took  the  reefed  sails  and 
rigging,  and  snapped  the  masts  and  broke  every 
vessel  from  its  moorings,  and  drove  all  to  wreck 
and  ruin  against  the  great  mole  that  had  been 
built  to  shelter  them. 

And  away  inland,  beyond  the  palisades  and  under 
the  entrenched  camp  of  the  besiegers,  the  ground 
pitched  and  rocked,  so  that  every  tent  fell  grovel- 
ling ;  and  whenever  the  ground  gaped,  captains  and 
men-at-arms  were  swallowed  down  in  detachments. 

Hardly  had  the  call  of  old  Jarl's  warhorn  ceased, 

35 


before  the  Constable  commanded  the  castle  gates 
to  be  thrown  open,  and  out  he  came  leading  a 
gaunt  and  hungry  band  of  Jarl-folk  warriors ;  for 
over  in  the  enemy's  camp  they  had  scent  of  a  hot 
supper  which  must  be  cooked  and  eaten  before 
dawn.  And  in  a  little  while,  when  the  cooking 
was  at  its  height,  young  Duke  Jarl  stuck  his  red 
head  out  over  the  battlements,  and  laughed. 

So  this  has  told  how  old  Duke  Jarl  once  turned 
and  talked  in  his  sleep  ;  but  to  tell  of  the  real 
awakening  of  old  Jarl  would  be  quite  another  story. 


A  CAPFUL  OF  MOONSHINE 

ON  the  top  of  Drundle  Head,  away  to  the 
right,  where  the  foot-track  crossed,  it  was 
known  that  the  fairies  still  came  and  danced 
by  night.  But  though  Toonie  went  that  way 
every  evening  on  his  road  home  from  work,  never 
once  had  he  been  able  to  spy  them. 

So  one  day  he  said  to  the  old  faggot-maker,  "  How 
is  it  that  one  gets  to  see  a  fairy  ?  "  The  old  man 
answered,  "  There  are  some  to  whom  it  comes  by 
nature ;  but  for  others  three  things  are  needed — a 
handful  of  courage,  a  mouthful  of  silence,  and  a 
capful  of  moonshine.  But  if  you  would  be  trying 
it,  take  care  that  you  don't  go  wrong  once  too 
often ;  for  with  the  third  time  you  will  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  fairies  and  be  their  bondsman.  But 
if  you  manage  to  see  the  fairies,  you  may  ask  whatever 
you  like  of  them." 

Toonie  believed  in  himself  so  much  that  the  very 
next  night  he  took  his  courage  in  both  hands,  filled 
his  cap  with  moonshine,  shut  his  mouth,  and  set  out. 

Just  after  he  had  started  he  passed,  as  he  thought, 
a  priest  riding  by  on  a  mule.  "  Good  evening  to 
you,  Toonie,"  called  the  priest. 

"  Good  evening,  your  reverence,"  cried  Toonie, 
and  flourished  off  his  cap,  so  that  out  fell  his  capful 
of  moonshine.  And  though  he  went  on  all  the 
way  up  over  the  top  of  Drundle  Head,  never  a 
fairy  did  he  spy ;  for  he  forgot  that,  in  passing 
what  he  supposed  to  be  the  priest,  he  had  let  go 

37 


both  his  mouthful  of  silence  and  his  capful  of 
moonshine. 

The  next  night,  when  he  was  coming  to  the  ascent 
of  the  hill,  he  saw  a  little  elderly  man  wandering 
uncertainly  over  the  ground  ahead  of  him  ;  and  he 
too  seemed  to  have  his  hands  full  of  courage  and 
his  cap  full  of  moonshine.  As  Toonie  drew  near, 
the  other  turned  about  and  said  to  him,  "  Can  you 
tell  me,  neighbour,  if  this  be  the  way  to  the  fairies  ?" 

"  Why,  you  fool,"  cried  Toonie,  "  a  moment  ago 
it  was !  But  now  you  have  gone  and  let  go  your 
mouthful  of  silence  !  " 

"  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure — so  I  have  !  "  answered 
the  old  man  sadly ;  and  turning  about,  he  disap- 
peared among  the  bushes. 

As  for  Toonie,  he  went  on  right  over  the  top  of 
Drundle  Head,  keeping  his  eyes  well  to  the  right ; 
but  never  a  fairy  did  he  see.  For  he  too  had  on  the 
way  let  go  his  mouthful  of  silence. 

Toonie,  when  his  second  failure  came  home  to 
him,  was  quite  vexed  with  himself  for  his  folly  and 
mismanagement.  So  that  it  should  not  happen 
again,  he  got  his  wife  to  tie  on  his  cap  of  moonshine 
so  firmly  that  it  could  not  come  off,  and  to  gag  up 
his  mouth  so  that  no  word  could  come  out  of  it. 
And  once  more  taking  his  courage  in  both  hands,  he 
set  out. 

For  a  long  way  he  went  and  nothing  happened, 
so  he  was  in  good  hopes  of  getting  the  desire  of  his 
eyes  before  the  night  was  over ;  and,  clenching  his 
fists  tight  upon  his  courage,  he  pressed  on. 

He  had  nearly  reached  to  the  top  of  Drundle 
Head,  when  up  from  the  ground  sprang  the  same 

38 


little  elderly  man  of  the  evening  before,  and  began 
beating  him  across  the  face  with  a  hazel  wand.  And 
at  that  Toonie  threw  up  both  hands  and  let  go  his 
courage,  and  turned  and  tried  to  run  down  the  hill. 

When  her  husband  did  not  return,  Toonie's  wife 
became  a  kind  of  a  widow.  People  were  very  kind 
to  her,  and  told  her  that  Toonie  was  not  dead — 
that  he  had  only  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  good- 
folk  ;  but  all  day  long  she  sat  and  cried,  "  I  fastened 
on  his  cap  of  moonshine,  and  I  tied  up  his  tongue ; 
and  for  all  that  he  has  gone  away  and  left  me  !  " 
And  so  she  cried  until  her  child  was  born  and  named 
little  Toonie  in  memory  of  his  lost  father. 

After  a  while  people,  looking  at  him,  began  to 
shake  their  heads ;  for  as  he  grew  older  it  became 
apparent  that  his  tongue  was  tied,  seeing  that  he 
remained  quite  dumb  in  spite  of  all  that  was  done 
to  teach  him  ;  and  his  head  was  full  of  moonshine, 
so  that  he  could  understand  nothing  clearly  by  day — 
only  as  night  came  on  his  wits  gathered,  and  he 
seemed  to  find  a  meaning  for  things.  And  some 
said  it  was  his  mother's  fault,  and  some  that  it  was 
his  father's,  and  some  that  he  was  a  changeling  sent 
by  the  fairies,  and  that  the  real  child  had  been  taken 
to  share  his  father's  bondage.  But  which  of  these 
things  was  true  Little  Toonie  himself  had  no  idea. 

After  a  time  Little  Toonie  began  to  grow  big,  as 
is  the  way  with  children,  and  at  last  he  became  bigger 
than  ever  old  Toonie  had  been.  But  folk  still  called 
him  Little  Toonie,  because  his  head  was  so  full  of 
moonshine  ;  and  his  mother,  finding  he  was  no  good 
to  her,  sold  him  to  the  farmer,  by  whom,  since  he 
had  no  wits  for  anything  better,  he  was  set  to  pull 

39 


at  waggon  and  plough  just  as  if  he  were  a  cart- 
horse ;  and,  indeed,  he  was  almost  as  strong  as  one. 
To  make  him  work,  carter  and  ploughman  used  to 
crack  their  whips  over  his  back  ;  and  Little  Toonie 
took  it  as  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world, 
because  his  brain  was  full  of  moonshine,  so  that  he 
understood  nothing  clearly  by  day. 

But  at  night  he  would  lie  in  his  stable  among 
the  horses,  and  wonder  about  the  moonlight  that 
stretched  wide  over  all  the  world  and  lay  free  on  the 
bare  tops  of  the  hills ;  and  he  thought — would  it 
not  be  good  to  be  there  all  alone,  with  the  moon- 
beams laying  their  white  hands  down  on  his  head  ? 
And  so  it  came  that  one  night,  finding  the  door  of 
his  stable  unlocked,  he  ran  out  into  the  open  world 
a  free  man. 

A  soft  wind  breathed  at  large,  and  swung  slowly 
in  the  black- silver  treetops.  Over  them  Little 
Toonie  could  see  the  quiet  slopes  of  Drundle  Head, 
asleep  in  the  moonlight. 

Before  long,  following  the  lead  of  his  eyes,  he  had 
come  to  the  bottom  of  the  ascent.  There  before 
him  went  walking  a  little  shrivelled  elderly  man, 
looking  to  right  and  left  as  if  uncertain  of  the 
road. 

As  Little  Toonie  drew  near,  the  other  one  turned 
and  spoke.  "  Can  you  tell  me,"  said  he,  "  if  this 
be  the  way  to  the  fairies  ?  " 

Little  Toonie  had  no  tongue  to  give  an  answer ; 
so,  looking  at  his  questioner,  he  wagged  his  head  and 
went  on. 

Quickening  his  pace,  the  old  man  came  alongside 
and  began  peering ;  then  he  smiled  to  himself, 

40 


and  after  a  bit  spoke  out.  "  So  you  have  lost  your 
cap,  neighbour  ?  Then  you  will  never  be  able  to 
find  the  fairies."  For  he  did  not  know  that  Little 
Toonie,  who  wore  no  cap  on  his  head,  carried  his 
capful  of  moonshine  safe  underneath  his  skull,  where 
it  had  been  since  the  hour  of  his  birth. 

The  little  elderly  man  slipped  from  his  side, 
disappearing  suddenly  among  the  bushes,  and  Toonie 
went  on  alone.  So  presently  he  was  more  than  half 
way  up  the  ascent,  and  could  see  along  the  foot- 
track  of  the  thicket  the  silver  moonlight  lying  out 
over  the  open  ahead. 

He  had  nearly  reached  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  when 
up  from  the  ground  sprang  the  little  elderly  man, 
and  began  beating  him  across  the  face  with  a  hazel 
wand.  Toonie  thought  surely  this  must  be  some 
carter  or  ploughman  beating  him  to  make  him  go 
faster ;  so  he  made  haste  to  get  on  and  be  rid  of 
the  blows. 

Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  little  elderly  man  threw 
away  his  hazel  stick,  and  fell  down,  clutching  at 
Little  Toonie's  ankles,  whining  and  praying  him  not 
to  go  on. 

"  Now  that  I  have  failed  to  keep  you  from  com- 
ing," he  cried,  "  my  masters  will  put  me  to  death 
for  it !  I  am  a  dead  man,  I  tell  you,  if  you  go 
another  step  !  " 

Toonie  could  not  understand  what  the  old  fellow 
meant,  and  he  could  not  speak  to  him.  But  the 
poor  creature  clung  to  his  feet,  holding  them  to 
prevent  him  from  taking  another  step  ;  so  Toonie 
just  stooped  down,  and  (for  he  was  so  little  and  light) 
picked  him  up  by  the  scruff,  and  by  the  slack  of  his 

41 


breeches,  so  that  his  arms  and  legs  trailed  together 
along  the  ground. 

In  the  open  moonlight  ahead  little  people  were 
all  agog  ;  bright  dewdrops  were  shivering  down  like 
rain,  where  flying  feet  alighted — shot  from  bent 
grass-blades  like  arrows  from  a  drawn  bow.  Tight, 
panting  little  bodies,  of  which  one  could  count  the 
ribs,  and  faces  flushed  with  fiery  green  blood, 
sprang  everywhere.  But  at  Toonie's  coming  one 
cried  up  shriller  than  a  bat ;  and  at  once  rippling 
burrows  went  this  way  and  that  in  the  long  grass, 
and  stillness  followed  after. 

The  poor,  dangling  old  man,  whom  Toonie  was 
still  carrying,  wriggled  and  whined  miserably,  cry- 
ing, "  Come  back,  masters,  for  it  is  no  use — this 
one  sees  you  !  He  has  got  past  me  and  all  my 
poor  skill  to  stop  him.  Set  me  free,  for  you 
see  I  am  too  old  to  keep  the  door  for  you  any 
longer !  " 

Out  buzzed  the  fairies,  hot  and  angry  as  a  swarm 
of  bees.  They  came  and  fastened  upon  the  un- 
happy old  man,  and  began  pulling  him.  "  To  the 
ant-hills  !  "  they  cried ;  "  off  with  him  to  the 
ant-hills ! "  But  when  they  found  that  Toonie 
still  held  him,  quickly  they  all  let  go. 

One  fairy,  standing  out  from  the  rest,  pulled  off 
his  cap  and  bowed  low.  "  What  is  your  will, 
master  mortal  ?  "  he  inquired  ;  "  for  until  you 
have  taken  your  wish  and  gone,  we  are  all  slaves 
at  your  bidding." 

They  all  cringed  round  him,  the  cruel  little 
people ;  but  he  answered  nothing.  The  moon- 
beams came  thick,  laying  their  slender  white  palms 

42 


graciously  upon  Toonie's  head  ;  and  he,  looking  up, 
opened  his  mouth  for  a  laugh  that  gave  no  sound. 

"  Ah,  so  !  That  is  why — he  is  a  mute  !  "  cried 
the  fairies. 

Quickly  one  dipped  his  cap  along  the  grass  and 
brought  it  filled  with  dew.  He  sprang  up,  and 
poured  it  upon  Toonie's  tongue ;  and  as  the  fairy 
dew  touched  it,  "  Now  speak  !  "  they  all  cried  in 
chorus,  and  fawned  and  cringed,  waiting  for  him 
to  give  them  the  word. 

Cudgelling  his  brain  for  what  it  all  meant,  he 
said,  "  Tell  me  first  what  wish  I  may  have." 

"  Whatever  you  like  to  ask,"  said  they,  "  for 
you  have  become  one  of  our  free  men.  Tell  us 
your  name  ?  " 

"  I  am  called  Little  Toonie,"  said  he,  "  the  son 
of  old  Toonie  that  was  lost." 

"  Why,  as  I  live  and  remember,"  cried  the  little 
elderly  man,  "  old  Toonie  was  me !  "  Then  he 
threw  himself  grovelling  at  his  son's  feet,  and  began 
crying  :  "  Oh,  be  quick  and  take  me  away  !  Make 
them  give  me  up  to  you  :  ask  to  have  me !  I  am 
your  poor,  loving  old  father  whom  you  never  saw ; 
all  these  years  have  I  been  looking  and  longing  for 
you  !  Now  take  me  away,  for  they  are  a  proud, 
cruel  people,  as  spiteful  as  they  are  small ;  and  my 
back  has  been  broken  twenty  years  in  their  bond- 
age." 

The  fairies  began  to  look  blue,  for  they  hate 
nothing  so  much  as  to  give  up  one  whom  they  have 
once  held  captive.  "  We  can  give  you  gold,"  said 
they,  "  or  precious  stones,  or  the  root  of  long  living, 
or  the  waters  of  happiness,  or  the  sap  of  youth,  or 

45 


the  seed  of  plenty,  or  the  blossom  of  beauty. 
Choose  any  of  these,  and  we  can  give  it  you." 

The  old  man  again  caught  hold  of  his  son's  feet. 
"  Don't  choose  these,"  he  whimpered,  "  choose 
me!" 

So  because  he  had  a  capful  of  moonshine  in  his 
head,  and  because  the  moonbeams  were  laying 
their  white  hands  on  his  hair,  he  chose  the  weak, 
shrivelled  old  man,  who  crouched  and  clung  to 
him,  imploring  not  to  be  let  go. 

The  fairies,  for  spite  and  anger,  bestowed  every 
one  a  parting  pinch  on  their  tumbledown  old 
bondsman  ;  then  they  handed  him  to  his  son,  and 
swung  back  with  careless  light  hearts  to  their  revels. 

As  father  and  son  went  down  the  hill  together, 
the  old  man  whistled  and  piped  like  a  bird.  "  Why, 
why !  "  he  said,  "  you  are  a  lad  of  strength  and 
inches :  with  you  to  work  and  look  after  me,  I 
can  keep  on  to  a  merry  old  age !  Ay,  ay,  I  have 
had  long  to  wait  for  it ;  but  wisdom  is  justified 
in  her  children." 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  HERONS 

ALONG  time  ago  there  lived  a   King   and 
a    Queen    who    loved    each    other    dearly. 
They  had  both  fallen  in  love  at  first  sight ; 
and  as  their  love  began  so  it  went  on  through  all 
their  life.     Yet  this,  which  was  the  cause  of  all 
their   happiness,  was   the  cause  also  of   all   their 
misfortunes. 

In  his  youth,  when  he  was  a  beautiful  young 
bachelor,  the  King  had  had  the  ill-luck  to  attract 
the  heart  of  a  jealous  and  powerful  Fairy;  and 
though  he  never  gave  her  the  least  hope  or  encour- 
agement, when  she  heard  that  his  love  had  been 
won  at  first  sight  by  a  mere  mortal,  her  rage  and 
resentment  knew  no  bounds.  She  said  nothing, 
however,  but  bided  her  time. 

After  they  had  been  married  a  year  the  Queen 
presented  her  husband  with  a  little  daughter ; 
before  she  was  yet  a  day  old  she  was  the  most 
beautiful  object  in  the  world,  and  life  seemed  to 
promise  her  nothing  but  fortune  and  happiness. 

The  family  Fairy  came  to  the  blessing  of  the 
new-born ;  and  she,  looking  at  it  as  it  lay  beauti- 
fully asleep  in  its  cradle,  and  seeing  that  it  had 
already  as  much  beauty  and  health  as  the  heart 
could  desire,  promised  it  love  as  the  next  best  gift 
it  was  within  her  power  to  offer.  The  Queen,  who 
knew  how  much  happiness  her  own  love  had 
brought  her,  was  kissing  the  good  Fairy  with  all 
the  warmth  of  gratitude,  when  a  black  kite  came 

47 


and  perched  upon  the  window-sill  crying  :  "  And 
I  \\ill  give  her  love  at  first  sight !  The  first  living 
thing  that  she  sets  eyes  on  she  shall  love  to  distrac- 
tion, whether  it  be  man  or  monster,  prince  or 
pauper,  bird,  beast  or  reptile."  And  as  the  wicked 
Fairy  spoke  she  clapped  her  wings,  and  up  through 
the  boards  of  the  floor,  and  out  from  under  the 
bed,  and  in  through  the  window,  came  a  crowd 
of  all  the  ugliest  shapes  in  the  world.  Thick  and 
fast  they  came,  gathering  about  the  cradle  and 
lifting  their  heads  over  the  edge  of  it,  waiting  for 
the  poor  little  Princess  to  wake  up  and  fall  in  love 
at  first  sight  with  one  of  them. 

Luckily  the  child  was  asleep ;  and  the  good 
Fairy,  after  driving  away  the  black  kite  and  the 
crowd  of  beasts  it  had  called  to  its  aid,  wrapped  the 
Princess  up  in  a  shawl  and  carried  her  away  to  a 
dark  room  where  no  glimmer  of  light  could  get  in. 

She  said  to  the  Queen  :  "  Till  I  can  devise  a 
better  way,  you  must  keep  her  in  the  dark ;  and 
when  you  take  her  into  the  open  air  you  must 
blindfold  her  eyes.  Some  day,  when  she  is  of  a 
fit  age,  I  will  bring  a  handsome  Prince  for  her  ;  and 
only  to  him  shall  you  unblindfold  her  at  last,  and 
make  love  safe  for  her." 

She  went,  leaving  the  King  and  Queen  deeply 
stricken  with  grief  over  the  harm  which  had  be- 
fallen their  daughter.  They  did  not  dare  to  present 
even  themselves  before  her  eyes  lest  love  for  them, 
fatal  and  consuming,  should  drive  her  to  distrac- 
tion. In  utter  darkness  the  Queen  would  sit  and 
cherish  her  daughter,  clasping  her  to  her  breast, 
and  calling  her  by  all  sweet  names ;  but  the  little 


face,  except  by  stealth  when  it  was  sound  asleep, 
she  never  dared  to  see,  nor  did  the  baby-Princess 
know  the  face  of  the  mother  who  loved  her. 

By  and  by,  however,  the  family  Fairy  came 
again,  saying  :  "  Now,  I  have  a  plan  by  which  your 
child  may  enjoy  the  delights  of  seeing,  and  no  ill 
come  of  it."  And  she  caused  to  be  made  a  large 
chamber,  the  whole  of  one  side  of  which  was  a 
mirror.  High  up  in  the  opposite  wall  were  win- 
dows so  screened  that  from  below  no  one  could 
look  out  of  them,  but  across  on  to  the  mirror  came 
all  the  sweet  sights  of  the  world,  glimpses  of  wood 
and  field,  and  the  sun  and  the  moon  and  the  stars, 
and  of  every  bird  as  it  flew  by.  So  the  little  Prin- 
cess was  brought  and  set  in  a  screened  place  looking 
towards  the  mirror,  and  there  her  eyes  learned 
gradually  all  the  beautiful  things  of  the  world. 
Over  the  screen,  in  the  glass  before  her,  she  learned 
to  know  her  mother's  face,  and  to  love  it  dearly  in 
a  gentle  child-like  fashion  ;  and  when  she  could 
talk  she  became  very  wise,  understanding  all  that 
was  told  her  about  the  danger  of  looking  at  any- 
thing alive,  except  by  its  reflection  in  the  glass. 

When  she  went  out  into  the  open  air  for  her 
health,  she  always  wore  a  bandage  over  her  eyes, 
lest  she  should  look,  and  love  something  too  well : 
but  in  the  chamber  of  the  mirror  her  eyes  were  free 
to  see  whatever  they  could.  The  good  Fairy, 
making  herself  invisible,  came  and  taught  her  to 
read  and  make  music,  and  draw  ;  so  that  before  she 
was  fifteen  she  was  the  most  charming  and  accom- 
plished, as  well  as  the  most  beautiful  Princess  of 
her  day. 

D  49 


At  last  the  Fairy  said  that  the  time  was  come  for 
her  world  of  reflections  to  be  made  real,  and  she 
went  away  to  fetch  the  ideal  Prince  that  the  Prin- 
cess might  at  first  sight  fall  in  love  with  him. 

The  very  day  after  she  was  gone,  as  the  morning 
was  fine,  the  Princess  went  out  with  one  of  her 
maids  for  a  walk  through  the  woods.  Over  her 
patient  eyes  she  wore  a  bandage  of  green  silk, 
through  which  she  felt  the  sunlight  fall  pleasantly. 

Out  of  doors  the  Princess  knew  most  things  by 
their  sounds.  She  passed  under  rustling  leaves, 
and  along  by  the  side  of  running  water  ;  and  at 
last  she  heard  the  silence  of  the  water,  and  knew  that 
she  was  standing  by  the  great  fish-pond  in  the 
middle  of  the  wood.  Then  she  said  to  her  wait- 
ing-woman, "  Is  there  not  some  great  bird  fishing 
out  there,  for  I  hear  the  dipping  of  his  bill,  and  the 
water  falling  off  it  as  he  draws  out  the  fish  ?  " 

And  just  as  she  was  saying  that,  the  wicked 
Fairy,  who  had  long  bided  her  time,  coming  softly 
up  from  behind,  pushed  the  waiting-woman  off  the 
bank  into  the  deep  water  of  the  pond.  Then  she 
snatched  away  the  silk  bandage,  and  before  the 
Princess  had  time  to  think  or  close  her  eyes,  she  had 
lost  her  heart  to  a  great  heron  that  was  standing 
half-way  up  to  his  feathers  fishing  among  the  reeds. 

The  Princess,  with  her  eyes  set  free,  laughed  for 
joy  at  the  sight  of  him.  She  stretched  out  her  arms 
from  the  bank  and  cried  most  musically  for  the  bird 
to  come  to  her ;  and  he  came  in  grave,  stately 
fashion,  with  trailing  legs,  and  slow  sobbing  creak 
of  his  wings,  and  settled  down  on  the  bank  beside 
her.  She  drew  his  slender  neck  against  her  white 

50 


throat,  and  laughed  and  cried  with  her  arms  round 
him,  loving  him  so  that  she  forgot  all  in  the  world 
beside.  And  the  heron  looked  gravely  at  her  with 
kind  eyes,  and,  bird-like,  gave  her  all  the  love  he 
could,  but  not  more ;  and  so,  presently,  casting  his 
grey  wings  abroad,  lifted  himself  and  sailed  slowly 
back  to  his  fishing  among  the  reeds. 

The  waiting-woman  had  got  herself  out  of  the 
water,  and  stood  wringing  her  clothes  and  her  hands 
beside  the  Princess.  "  O,  sweet  mistress,"  she  cried, 
with  lamentation,  "  now  is  all  the  evil  come  about 
which  it  was  our  whole  aim  to  avoid !  And  what, 
and  what  will  the  Queen  your  mother  say  ?  " 

But  the  Princess  answered,  smiling,  "  Foolish 
girl,  I  had  no  thought  of  what  happiness  meant  till 
now !  See  you  where  my  love  is  gone  ?  and  did 
you  notice  the  bend  of  his  neck,  and  the  exceeding 
length  of  his  legs,  and  the  stretch  of  his  grey  wings 
as  he  flew  ?  This  pond  is  his  hall  of  mirrors,  wherein 
he  sees  the  reflection  of  all  his  world.  Surely  I, 
from  my  hall  of  mirrors,  am  the  true  mate  for  him  !  " 

Her  maid,  seeing  how  far  the  evil  had  gone,  and 
that  no  worse  could  now  happen,  ran  back  to  the 
palace  and  curdled  all  the  court's  blood  with  her 
news.  The  King  and  the  Queen  and  all  their 
nobility  rushed  down,  and  there  they  found  the 
Princess  with  the  heron  once  more  in  her  arms, 
kissing  and  fondling  it  with  all  the  marks  of  a  sweet 
and  maidenly  passion.  "  Dear  mother,"  she  said, 
as  soon  as  she  saw  the  Queen,  "  the  happiness,  which 
you  feared  would  be  sorrow,  has  come  ;  and  it  is  such 
happiness  I  have  no  name  for  it !  And  the  evil 
that  you  so  dreaded,  see  how  sweet  it  is !  And 


how  sweet  it  is  to  see  all  the  world  with  my  own 
eyes  and  you  also  at  last !  "  And  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  kissed  her  mother's  face  in  the 
full  light  of  day. 

But  her  mother  hung  sobbing  upon  her  neck, 
"  O,  my  darling,  my  beautiful,"  she  wept,  "  does 
your  heart  belong  for  ever  to  this  grey  bird  ?  ' 

Her  daughter  answered,  "  He  is  more  than  all 
the  world  to  me  !  Is  he  not  goodly  to  look  upon  ? 
Have  you  considered  the  bend  of  his  neck,  the  length 
of  his  legs,  and  the  waving  of  his  wings ;  his  skill  also 
when  he  fishes :  what  imagination,  what  presence 
of  mind !  " 

"  Alas,  alas,"  sorrowed  the  Queen,  "  dear 
daughter,  is  this  all  true  to  you  ?  " 

"  Mother,"  cried  the  Princess,  clinging  to  her 
with  entreaty,  "  is  all  the  world  blind  but  me  ?  '' 

The  heron  had  become  quite  fond  of  the  Princess ; 
wherever  she  went  it  followed  her,  and,  indeed, 
without  it  nowhere  would  she  go.  Whenever  it 
was  near  her,  the  Princess  laughed  and  sang,  and 
when  it  was  out  of  her  sight  she  became  sad  as  night. 
All  the  courtiers  wept  to  see  her  in  such  bondage. 
"  Ah,"  said  she,  "  your  eyes  have  been  worn  out 
with  looking  at  things  so  long  ;  mine  have  been  kept 
for  me  in  a  mirror." 

When  the  good  family  Fairy  came  (for  she  was 
at  once  sent  for  by  the  Queen,  and  told  of  all  that 
had  happened),  she  said,  "DearMadam,  there  are  but 
two  things  you  can  do  :  either  you  can  wring  the 
heron's  neck,  and  leave  the  Princess  to  die  of  grief  ; 
or  you  can  make  the  Princess  happy  in  her  own  way, 
by "  Her  voice  dropped,  and  she  looked  from 

52 


the  King  to  the  Queen  before  she  went  on.  "  At 
her  birth  I  gave  your  daughter  love  for  my  gift ; 
now  it  is  hers,  will  you  let  her  keep  it  ?  " 

The  King  and  the  Queen  looked  softly  at  each 
other.  "  Do  not  take  love  from  her,"  said  they, 
"  let  her  keep  it !  " 

"  There  is  but  one  way,"  answered  the  Fairy. 

"  Do  not  tell  me  the  way,"  said  the  Queen  weep- 
ing, "  only  let  the  way  be  !  " 

So  they  went  with  the  Fairy  down  to  the  great 
pond,  and  there  sat  the  Princess,  with  the  grey 
heron  against  her  heart.  She  smiled  as  she  saw 
them  come.  "  I  see  good  in  your  hearts  towards 
me  !  "  she  cried.  "  Dear  godmother,  give  me  the 
thing  that  I  want,  that  my  love  may  be  happy  !  " 

Then  the  Fairy  stroked  her  but  once  with  her 
wand,  and  two  grey  herons  suddenly  rose  up  from  the 
bank,  and  sailed  away  to  a  hiding-place  in  the  reeds. 

The  Fairy  said  to  the  Queen,  "  You  have  made 
your  daughter  happy ;  and  still  she  will  have  her 
voice  and  her  human  heart,  and  will  remember  you 
with  love  and  gratitude  ;  but  her  greatest  love  will 
be  to  the  grey  heron,  and  her  home  among  the  reeds." 

So  the  changed  life  of  the  Princess  began  ;  every 
day  her  mother  went  down  to  the  pool  and  called, 
and  the  Princess  came  rising  up  out  of  the  reeds, 
and  folded  her  grey  wings  over  her  mother's  heart. 
Every  day  her  mother  said,  "  Daughter  of  mine, 
are  you  happy  ?  " 

And  the  Princess  answered  her,  "  Yes,  for  I  love 
and  am  loved." 

Yet  each  time  the  mother  heard  more  and  more 
of  a  note  of  sadness  come  into  her  daughter's  voice  ; 

53 


and  at  last  one  day  she  said,  "  Answer  me  truly,  as 
the  mother  who  brought  you  into  the  world,  whether 
you  be  happy  in  your  heart  of  hearts  or  no  ?  " 

Then  the  heron-Princess  laid  her  head  on  the 
Queen's  heart,  and  said,  "  Mother,  my  heart  is 
breaking  with  love  !  " 

"  For  whom,  then  ?  "  asked  the  Queen  astonished. 

"  For  my  grey  heron,  whom  I  love,  and  who  loves 
me  so  much.  And  yet  it  is  love  that  divides  us,  for 
I  am  still  troubled  with  a  human  heart,  and  often  it 
aches  with  sorrow  because  all  the  love  in  it  can  never 
be  fully  understood  or  shared  by  my  heron ;  and  I 
have  my  human  voice  left,  and  that  gives  me  a  hun- 
dred things  to  say  all  day,  for  which  there  is  no  word 
in  heron's  language,  and  so  he  cannot  understand 
them.  Therefore  these  things  only  make  a  gulf 
between  him  and  me.  For  all  the  other  grey  herons 
in  the  pools  there  is  happiness,  but  not  for  me  who 
have  too  big  a  heart  between  my  wings." 

Her  mother  said  softly,  "  Wait,  wait,  little 
heron-daughter,  and  it  shall  be  well  with  you !  " 
Then  she  went  to  the  Fairy  and  said,  "  My 
daughter's  heart  is  lonely  among  the  reeds,  for  the 
grey  heron's  love  covers  but  half  of  it.  Give  her 
some  companions  of  her  own  kind  that  her  hours  may 
become  merry  again  !  " 

So  the  Fairy  took  and  turned  five  of  the  Princess's 
ladies'- maids  into  herons,  and  sent  them  down  to 
the  pool. 

The  five  herons  stood  each  on  one  leg  in  the 
shallows  of  the  pool,  and  cried  all  day  long  ;  and  their 
tears  fell  down  into  the  water  and  frightened  away 
the  fish  that  came  their  way.  For  they  had  human 

54 


hearts  that  cried  out  to  be  let  go.  "  O,  cruel,  cruel," 
they  wept,  whenever  the  heron-Princess  approached, 
"  see  what  we  suffer  because  of  you,  and  what  they 
have  made  of  us  for  your  sake !  " 

The  Princess  came  to  her  mother  and  said,  "  Dear 
mother,  take  them  away,  for  their  cry  wearies  me, 
and  the  pool  is  bitter  with  their  tears  !  They  only 
awake  the  human  part  of  my  heart  that  wants  to 
sleep ;  presently,  maybe,  if  it  is  let  alone,  it  will 
forget  itself." 

Her  mother  said,  "  It  is  my  coming  every  day  also 
that  keeps  it  awake."  The  Princess  answered, 
"  This  sorrow  belongs  to  my  birthright ;  you  must 
still  come  ;  but  for  the  others,  let  the  Fairy  take  them 
away." 

So  the  Fairy  came  and  released  the  five  ladies'- 
maids  whom  she  had  changed  into  herons.  And 
they  came  up  out  of  the  water,  stripping  themselves 
of  their  grey  feather-skins  and  throwing  them  back 
into  the  pool.  The  Fairy  said,  "  You  foolish  maids, 
you  have  thrown  away  a  gift  that  you  should  have 
valued ;  these  skins  you  could  have  kept  and  held 
as  heirlooms  in  your  family." 

The  five  maids  answered,  "  We  want  to  forget 
that  there  are  such  things  as  herons  in  the  world  !  " 

After  much  thought  the  Queen  said  to  the  Fairy, 
"  You  have  changed  a  Princess  into  a  heron,  and  five 
maids  into  herons  and  back  again ;  cannot  you 
change  one  heron  into  a  Prince  ?  "  But  the  Fairy 
answered  sadly,  "  Our  power  has  limits ;  we  can 
bring  down,  but  we  cannot  bring  up,  if  there  be 
no  heart  to  answer  our  call.  The  five  maids  only 
followed  their  hearts,  that  were  human,  when  I 

55 


called  them  back  ;  but  a  heron  has  only  a  heron's 
heart,  and  unless  his  heart  become  too  great  for  a 
bird  and  he  earn  a  human  one,  I  cannot  change  him 
to  a  higher  form."  "  How  can  he  earn  a  human 
one  ?  "  asked  the  Queen.  "  Only  if  he  love  the  Prin- 
cess so  well  that  his  love  for  her  becomes  stronger  than 
his  life,"  answered  the  Fairy.  "  Then  he  will  have 
earned  a  human  body,  and  then  I  can  give  him  the 
form  that  his  heart  suits  best.  There  may  be  a 
chance,  if  we  wait  for  it  and  are  patient,  for  the 
Princess's  love  is  great  and  may  work  miracles." 

A  little  while  after  this,  the  Queen  watching,  saw 
that  the  two  herons  were  making  a  nest  among  the 
reeds.  "  What  have  you  there  ?  "  said  the  mother 
to  her  daughter.  "  A  little  hollow  place,"  answered 
the  heron-Princess,  "  and  in  it  the  moon  lies."  A 
little  while  after  she  said  again,  "  What  have  you 
there,  now,  little  daughter  T  "  And  her  daughter 
answered,  "  Only  a  small  hollow  space ;  but  in  it  two 
moons  lie." 

The  Queen  told  the  family  Fairy  how  in  a  hollow 
of  the  reeds  lay  two  moons.  "  Now,"  said  the  Fairy, 
"  we  will  wait  no  longer.  If  your  daughter's  love  has 
touched  the  heron's  heart  and  made  it  grow  larger 
than  a  bird's,  I  can  help  them  both  to  happiness; 
but  if  not,  then  birds  they  must  still  remain." 

Among  the  reeds  the  heron  said  in  bird  language 
to  his  wife,  "  Go  and  stretch  your  wings  for  a  little 
while  over  the  water  ;  it  is  weary  work  to  wait  here 
so  long  in  the  reeds."  The  heron-Princess  looked 
at  him  with  her  bird's  eyes,  and  all  the  human  love 
in  her  heart  strove,  like  a  fountain  that  could  not 
get  free,  to  make  itself  known  through  them  ;  also 

56 


her  tongue  was  full  of  the  longing  to  utter  sweet 
words,  but  she  kept  them  back,  knowing  they  were 
beyond  the  heron's  power  to  understand.  So  she 
answered  merely  in  heron's  language,  "  Come  with 
me,  and  I  will  come  !  " 

They  rose,  wing  beating  beside  wing ;  and  the 
reflection  of  their  grey  breasts  slid  out  under  them 
over  the  face  of  the  water. 

Higher  they  went  and  higher,  passing  over  the 
tree  tops,  and  keeping  time  together  as  they  flew. 
All  at  once  the  wings  of  the  grey  heron  flagged,  then 
took  a  deep  beat ;  he  cried  to  the  heron-Princess, 
"  Turn,  and  come  home,  yonder  there  is  danger 
flying  to  meet  us  !  "  Before  them  hung  a  brown 
blot  in  the  air,  that  winged  and  grew  large.  The  two 
herons  turned  and  flew  back.  "  Rise,"  cried  the 
grey  heron,  "  we  must  rise  !  "  and  the  Princess  knew 
what  was  behind,  and  struggled  with  the  whole 
strength  of  her  wings  for  escape. 

The  grey  heron  was  bearing  ahead  on  stronger 
wing.  "  With  me,  with  me !  "  he  cried.  "  If 
it  gets  above  us,  one  of  us  is  dead  !  "  But  the 
falcon  had  fixed  his  eye  on  the  Princess  for  his 
quarry,  and  flew  she  fast,  or  flew  she  slow,  there 
was  little  chance  for  her  now.  Up  and  up  she 
strained,  but  still  she  was  behind  her  mate,  and 
still  the  falcon  gained. 

The  heron  swung  back  to  her  side ;  she  saw  the 
anguish  and  fear  of  his  downward  glance  as  his  head 
ranged  by  hers.  Past  her  the  falcon  went,  tower- 
ing for  the  final  swoop. 

The  Princess  cried  in  heron's  language,  "  Fare- 
well, dear  mate,  and  farewell,  two  little  moons 

57 


among  the  reeds !  "     But  the  grey  heron  only  kept 
closer  to  her  side. 

Overhead  the  falcon  closed  in  its  wings  and  fell 
like  a  dead  weight  out  of  the  clouds.  "  Drop  !  " 
cried  the  grey  heron  to  his  mate. 

At  his  word  she  dropped  ;  but  he  stayed,  stretch- 
ing up  his  wings,  and,  passing  between  the  descend- 
ing falcon  and  its  prey,  caught  in  his  own  body 
the  death-blow  from  its  beak.  Drops  of  his  blood 
fell  upon  the  heron-Princess. 

He  stricken  in  body,  she  in  soul,  together  they 
fell  down  to  the  margin  of  the  pool.  The  falcon 
still  clung  fleshing  its  beak  in  the  neck  of  its  prey. 
The  heron-Princess  threw  back  her  head,  and, 
darting  furiously,  struck  her  own  sharp  bill  deep 
into  the  falcon's  breast.  The  bird  threw  out  its 
wings  with  a  hoarse  cry  and  fell  back  dead,  with 
a  little  tuft  of  the  grey  heron's  feathers  still  upon 
its  beak. 

The  heron-Princess  crouched  down,  and  covered 
with  her  wings  the  dying  form  of  her  mate  ;  in  her 
sorrow  she  spoke  to  him  in  her  own  tongue,  for- 
getting her  bird's  language.  The  grey  heron  lifted 
his  head,  and,  gazing  tenderly,  answered  her  with 
a  human  voice  : 

"  Dear  wife,"  he  said,  "  at  last  I  have  the  happi- 
ness so  long  denied  to  me  of  giving  utterance  in 
the  speech  that  is  your  own  to  the  love  that  you 
have  put  into  my  heart.  Often  I  have  heard  you 
speak  and  have  not  understood ;  now  something 
has  touched  my  heart,  and  changed  it,  so  that  I 
can  both  speak  and  understand." 

"  O,  beloved  !  "     She  laid  her  head  down  by  his. 


"  The  ends  of  the  world  belong  to  us  now.  Lie 
down,  and  die  gently  by  my  side,  and  I  will  die 
with  you,  breaking  my  heart  with  happiness." 

"  No,"  said  the  grey  heron,  "  do  not  die  yet ! 
Remember  the  two  little  moons  that  lie  in  the 
hollow  among  the  reeds."  Then  he  laid  his  head 
down  by  hers,  being  too  weak  to  say  more. 

They  folded  their  wings  over  each  other,  and 
closed  their  eyes ;  nor  did  they  know  that  the 
Fairy  was  standing  by  them,  till  she  stroked  them 
both  softly  with  her  wand,  saying  to  each  of  them 
the  same  words : 

"  Human  heart,  and  human  form,  come  out  of 
the  grey  heron  !  " 

And  out  of  the  grey  heron-skins  came  two  human 
forms ;  the  one  was  the  Princess  restored  again  to 
her  own  shape,  but  the  other  was  a  beautiful 
youth,  with  a  bird-like  look  about  the  eyes,  and 
long  slender  limbs.  The  Princess,  as  she  gazed  on 
him,  found  hardly  any  change,  for  love  remained 
the  same,  binding  him  close  to  her  heart ;  and, 
grey  heron  or  beautiful  youth,  he  was  all  one  to 
her  now. 

Then  came  the  Queen,  weeping  for  joy,  and 
embracing  them  both,  and  after  them,  the  Fairy. 
"  O,  how  good  an  ending,"  she  cried,  "  has  come 
to  that  terrible  dream !  Let  it  never  be  remem- 
bered or  mentioned  between  us  more ! "  And 
she  began  to  lead  the  way  back  to  the  palace. 

But  the  youth,  to  whom  the  Fairy  gave  the  name 
of  Prince  Heron,  turned  and  took  up  the  two 
heron-skins  which  he  and  his  wife  had  let  fall,  and 
followed,  carrying  them  upon  his  arm.  And  as 

59 


they  came  past  the  bed  of  reeds,  the  Princess  went 
aside,  and,  stooping  down  in  a  certain  place  drew 
out  from  thence  something  which  she  came  carry- 
ing, softly  wrapped  in  the  folds  of  her  gown. 

With  what  rejoicing  the  Princess  and  her  hus- 
band were  welcomed  by  the  King  and  all  the 
Court  needs  not  to  be  told.  For  a  whole  month 
the  festivities  continued  ;  and  whenever  she  showed 
herself,  there  was  the  Princess  sitting  with  two 
eggs  in  her  lap,  and  her  hands  over  them  to  keep 
them  warm.  The  King  was  impatient.  "  Why 
cannot  you  send  them  down  to  the  poultry  yard 
to  be  hatched  ?  "  he  said. 

But  the  Princess  replied  smiling,  "  My  moons 
are  my  own,  and  I  will  keep  them  to  myself." 

"  Do  you  hear  ?  "  she  said  one  day,  at  last ; 
and  everybody  who  listened  could  hear  something 
going  "  tap,  tap,"  inside  the  shells.  Presently  the 
eggs  cracked,  and  out  of  each,  at  the  same  moment, 
came  a  little  grey  heron. 

When  she  saw  that  they  were  herons,  the  Queen 
wrung  her  hands.  "  O  Fairy,"  she  cried,  "  what 
a  disappointment  is  this !  I  had  hoped  two 
beautiful  babies  would  have  come  out  of  those 
shells." 

But  the  Fairy  said,  "  It  is  no  matter.  Half  of 
their  hearts  are  human  already ;  birds'  hearts  do 
not  beat  so.  If  you  wish  it,  I  can  change  them." 
So  she  stroked  them  softly  with  her  wand,  saying 
to  each,  "  Human  heart,  and  human  form,  come 
out  of  the  grey  heron  !  " 

Yet  she  had  to  stroke  them  three  times  before 
they  would  turn ;  and  she  said  to  the  Princess, 

60 


"  My  dear,  you  were  too  satisfied  with  your  lot 
when  you  laid  you  moon-children  I  doubt  if 
more  than  a  quarter  of  them  is  human." 

"  I  was  very  satisfied,"  said  the  Princess,  and 
she  laughed  across  to  her  husband. 

At  last,  however,  on  the  third  stroke  of  the  wand, 
the  heron's  skins  dropped  off,  and  they  changed 
into  a  pair  of  very  small  babies,  a  boy  and  a  girl. 
But  the  difference  between  them  and  other  chil- 
dren was,  that  instead  of  hair,  their  heads  were 
covered  with  a  fluff  of  downy  grey  feathers ;  also 
they  had  queer,  round,  bird-like  eyes,  and  were 
able  to  sleep  standing. 

Now,  after  this  the  happiness  of  the  Princess  was 
great ;  but  the  Fairy  said  to  her,  "  Do  not  let  your 
husband  see  the  heron-skins  again  for  some  while, 
lest  with  the  memory  a  longing  for  his  old  life 
should  return  to  him  and  take  him  away  from  you. 
Only  by  exchange  with  another  can  he  ever  get 
back  his  human  form  again,  if  he  surrenders  it  of 
his  own  free  will.  And  who  is  there  so  poor  that 
he  would  willingly  give  up  his  human  form  to 
become  a  bird  ?  " 

So  the  Princess  took  the  four  coats  of  feathers — 
her  own  and  her  husband's  and  her  two  children's 
—and  hid  them  away  in  a  closet  of  which  she  alone 
kept  the  key.  It  was  a  little  gold  key,  and  to  make 
it  safe  she  hung  it  about  her  neck,  and  wore  it 
night  and  day. 

The  Prince  said  to  her,  "  What  is  that  little  key 
that  you  wear  always  hung  round  your  neck  ?  " 

She  answered  him,  "  It  is  the  key  to  your  happi- 
ness and  mine.  Do  not  ask  more  than  that !  " 

61 


At  that  there  was  a  look  in  his  face  that  made  her 
say,  "  You  are  happy,  are  you  not  ?  " 

He  kissed  her,  saying,  "  Happy,  indeed  !  Have 
I  not  you  to  make  me  so  ?  "  Yet  though,  indeed, 
he  told  no  untruth,  and  was  happy  whenever  she 
was  with  him,  there  were  times  when  a  restlessness 
and  a  longing  for  wings  took  hold  of  him ;  for,  as 
yet,  the  life  of  a  man  was  new  and  half  strange  to 
him,  and  a  taint  of  his  old  life  still  mixed  itself 
with  his  blood.  But  to  her  he  was  ashamed  to  say 
what  might  seem  a  complaint  against  his  great 
fortune  ;  so  when  she  said  "  happiness,"  he  thought, 
"  Is  it  just  the  turning  of  that  key  that  I  want 
before  my  happiness  can  be  perfect  ?  " 

Therefore,  one  night  when  the  early  season  of 
spring  made  his  longing  strong  in  him,  he  took  the 
key  from  the  Princess  while  she  slept,  and  opened 
the  little  closet  in  which  hung  the  four  feather 
coats.  And  when  he  saw  his  own,  all  at  once  he 
remembered  the  great  pools  of  water,  and  how  they 
lay  in  the  shine  and  shadow  of  the  moonlight,  while 
the  fish  rose  in  rings  upon  their  surface.  And  at 
that  so  great  a  longing  came  into  him  to  revisit 
his  old  haunts  that  he  reached  out  his  hand  and 
took  down  the  heron-skin  from  its  nail  and  put  it 
over  himself ;  so  that  immediately  his  old  life  took 
hold  of  him,  and  he  flew  out  of  the  window  in  the 
form  of  a  grey  heron. 

In  the  morning  the  Princess  found  the  key  gone 
from  her  neck,  and  her  husband's  place  empty. 
She  went  in  haste  to  the  closet,  and  there  stood 
the  door  wide  with  the  key  in  it,  and  only  three 
heron-skins  hanging  where  four  had  used  to  be. 

62 


Then  she  came  crying  to  the  family  Fairy,  "  My 
husband  has  taken  his  heron-skin  and  is  gone ! 
Tell  me  what  I  can  do  !  " 

The  Fairy  pitied  her  with  all  her  heart,  but 
could  do  nothing.  "  Only  by  exchange,"  said  she, 
"  can  he  get  back  his  human  shape ;  and  who  is 
there  so  poor  that  he  would  willingly  lose  his  own 
form  to  become  a  bird  ?  Only  your  children,  who 
are  but  half  human,  can  put  their  heron-skins  on 
and  off  as  they  like  and  when  they  like." 

In  deep  grief  the  Princess  went  to  look  for  her 
husband  down  by  the  pools  in  the  wood.  But  now 
his  shame  and  sorrow  at  having  deceived  her  were 
so  great  that  as  soon  as  he  heard  her  voice  he  hid 
himself  among  the  reeds,  for  he  knew  now  that, 
having  put  on  his  heron-skin  again,  he  could  not 
take  it  off  unless  some  one  gave  him  a  human  form 
in  exchange. 

At  last,  however,  so  pitiful  was  the  cry  of  the 
Princess  for  him,  that  he  could  bear  to  hear  it  no 
more ;  but  rising  up  from  the  reeds  came  trailing 
to  her  sadly  over  the  water.  "  Ah,  dear  love !  " 
she  said  when  he  was  come  to  her,  "  if  I  had  not 
distrusted  you,  you  would  not  have  deceived  me  : 
thus,  for  my  fault  we  are  punished."  So  she  sor- 
rowed, and  he  answered  her  : 

"  Nay,  dear  love,  for  if  I  had  not  deceived  you, 
you  would  not  have  distrusted  me.  I  thought  I 
was  not  happy,  yet  I  feared  to  tell  it  you."  Thus 
they  sorrowed  together,  both  laying  on  themselves 
the  blame  and  the  burden. 

Then  she  said  to  him  :  "  Be  here  for  me  to- 
night, for  now  I  must  go  ;  but  then  I  shall  return." 


She  went  back  to  the  palace,  and  told  her  mother 
of  all  that  had  happened.  "  And  now,"  she  said, 
"  you  who  know  where  my  happiness  lies  will  not 
forbid  me  from  following  it ;  for  my  heart  is  again 
with  the  grey  heron."  And  the  Queen  wept,  but 
would  not  say  her  no. 

So  that  night  the  Princess  went  and  kissed  her 
children  as  they  slept  standing  up  in  their  beds, 
with  their  funny  feather-pates  to  one  side ;  and 
then  she  took  down  her  skin  of  feathers  and  put  it 
on,  and  became  changed  once  more  into  a  grey 
heron.  And  again  she  went  up  to  the  two  in  their 
cots,  and  kissed  their  birdish  heads  saying  :  "  They 
who  can  change  at  will,  being  but  half  human, 
they  will  come  and  visit  us  in  the  great  pool  by 
the  wood,  and  bring  back  word  of  us  here." 

In  the  morning  the  Princess  was  gone,  and  the 
two  children  when  they  woke  looked  at  each  other 
and  said  :  "  Did  we  dream  last  night  ?  " 

They  both  answered  each  other  "  Yes,  first  we 
dreamed  that  our  mother  came  and  kissed  us ;  and 
we  liked  that.  And  then  we  dreamed  that  a  grey 
heron  came  and  kissed  us,  and  we  liked  that  better 
still !  "  They  waved  their  arms  up  and  down. 
"  Why  have  we  not  wings  ?  "  they  kept  asking. 
All  day  long  they  did  this,  playing  that  they  were 
birds.  If  a  window  were  opened,  it  was  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  that  they  were  kept  from  trying 
to  fly  through. 

In  the  Court  they  were  known  as  the  "  Feather- 
pates  " ;  nothing  could  they  be  taught  at  all. 
When  they  were  rebuked  they  would  stand  on  one 
leg  and  sigh  with  their  heads  on  one  side ;  but 


no  one  ever  saw  tears  come  out  of  their  birdish 
eyes. 

Now  at  night  they  would  dream  that  two  grey 
herons  came  and  stood  by  their  bedsides,  kissing 
them  ;  "  And  where  in  the  world,"  they  said  when 
they  woke,  "  are  our  wings  ?  " 

One  day,  wandering  about  in  the  palace,  they 
came  upon  the  closet  in  which  hung  the  two  little 
feather  coats.  "  O  !  !  !  "  they  cried,  and  opened 
hard  bright  eyes  at  each  other,  nodding,  for  now 
they  knew  what  they  would  do.  "  If  we  told,  they 
would  be  taken  from  us,"  they  said ;  and  they  waited 
till  it  was  night.  Then  they  crept  back  and  took 
the  two  little  coats  from  their  pegs,  and,  putting 
them  on,  were  turned  into  two  young  herons. 

Through  the  window  they  flew,  away  down  to 
the  great  fish-pond  in  the  wood.  Their  father  and 
mother  saw  them  coming,  and  clapped  their  wings 
for  joy.  "  See,"  they  said,  "  our  children  come  to 
visit  us,  and  our  hearts  are  left  to  us  to  love  with. 
What  further  happiness  can  we  want  ?  "  But  when 
they  were  not  looking  at  each  other  they  sighed. 

All  night  long  the  two  young  herons  stayed  with 
their  parents ;  they  bathed,  and  fished,  and  flew, 
till  they  were  weary.  Then  the  Princess  showed 
them  the  nest  among  the  reeds,  and  told  them  all 
the  story  of  their  lives. 

"  But  it  is  much  nicer  to  be  herons  than  to  be 
real  people,"  said  the  young  ones,  sadly,  and  became 
very  sorrowful  when  dawn  drew  on,  and  their  mother 
told  them  to  go  back  to  the  palace  and  hang  up  the 
feather  coats  again,  and  be  as  they  had  been  the  day 
before. 

E  65 


Long,  long  the  day  now  seemed  to  them  ;  they 
hardly  waited  till  it  was  night  before  they  took  down 
their  feather-skins,  and,  putting  them  on,  flew  out 
and  away  to  the  fish-pond  in  the  wood. 

So  every  night  they  went,  when  all  in  the  palace 
were  asleep  ;  and  in  the  morning  came  back  before 
anyone  was  astir,  and  were  found  by  their  nurses 
lying  demurely  between  the  sheets,  just  as  they  had 
been  left  the  night  before. 

One  day  the  Queen  when  she  went  to  see  her 
daughter  said  to  her,  "  My  child,  your  two  children 
are  growing  less  like  human  beings  and  more  like 
birds  every  day.  Nothing  will  they  learn  or  do, 
but  stand  all  day  flapping  their  arms  up  and  down, 
and  saying,  *  Where  are  our  wings,  where  are  our 
wings  ?  '  The  idea  of  one  of  them  ever  coming  to 
the  throne  makes  your  father's  hair  stand  on  end 
under  his  crown." 

"  Oh,  mother,"  said  the  heron-Princess,  "  I  have 
made  a  sad  bed  for  you  and  my  father  to  lie  on  !  " 

One  day  the  two  children  said  to  each  other, 
"  Our  father  and  mother  are  sad,  because  they  want 
to  be  real  persons  again,  instead  of  having  wings  and 
catching  fish  the  way  we  like  to  do.  Let  us  give  up 
being  real  persons,  which  is  all  so  much  trouble,  and 
such  a  want  of  exercise,  and  make  them  exchange 
with  us  !  "  But  when  the  two  young  herons  went 
down  to  the  pond  and  proposed  it  to  them, 
their  parents  said,  "  You  are  young ;  you  do  not 
know  what  you  would  be  giving  up."  Nor  would 
they  consent  to  it  at  all. 

Now  one  morning  it  happened  that  the  Feather- 
pates  were  so  late  in  returning  to  the  palace  that  the 

66 


Queen,  coming  into  their  chamber,  found  the  two 
beds  empty ;  and  just  as  she  had  turned  away  to 
search  for  them  elsewhere,  she  heard  a  noise  of  wings 
and  saw  the  two  young  herons  come  flying  in  through 
the  window.  Then  she  saw  them  take  off  their 
feather-skins  and  hang  them  up  in  the  closet,  and  after 
that  go  and  lie  down  in  their  beds  so  as  to  look  as  if 
they  had  been  there  all  night. 

The  Queen  struck  her  hands  together  with  horror 
at  the  sight,  but  she  crept  away  softly,  so  that  they 
did  not  know  they  had  been  found  out.  But  as 
soon  as  they  were  out  of  their  beds  and  at  play  in 
another  part  of  the  palace,  the  Queen  went  to  the 
closet,  and  setting  fire  to  the  two  heron-skins  where 
they  hung,  burnt  them  till  not  a  feather  of  them  was 
left,  and  only  a  heap  of  grey  ashes  remained  to  tell 
what  had  become  of  them. 

At  night,  when  the  Feather-pates  went  to  the 
closet  and  found  their  skins  gone,  and  saw  what 
had  become  of  them,  their  grief  knew  no  bounds. 
They  trembled  with  fear  and  rage,  and  tears  rained 
out  of  their  eyes  as  they  beheld  themselves  deprived 
of  their  bird  bodies  and  made  into  real  persons  for 
good  and  all. 

"  We  won't  be  real  persons !  "  they  cried.  But 
for  all  their  crying  they  knew  no  way  out  of  it. 
They  made  themselves  quite  ill  with  grief ;  and 
that  night,  for  the  first  time  since  they  had  found 
their  way  to  the  closet,  they  stayed  where  their 
nurses  had  put  them,  and  did  not  even  stand  up  in 
their  beds  to  go  to  sleep.  There  they  lay  with  gasp- 
ing mouth,  and  big  bird-like  eyes  all  languid  with 
grief,  and  hollow  grey  cheeks. 


Presently  their  father  and  mother  came  seeking 
for  them,  wondering  why  they  had  not  come  down 
to  the  fish-pond  as  they  were  wont.  "  Where  are 
you,  my  children  ?  "  cried  the  heron-Princess, 
putting  her  head  in  through  the  window. 

"  Here  we  are,  both  at  death's  door  !  "  they  cried. 
"  Come  and  see  us  die  !  Our  wicked  grandam  has 
burnt  our  feather-skins  and  made  us  into  real  persons 
for  ever  and  ever,  Amen.  But  we  will  die  rather  !  " 

The  parent  herons,  when  they  heard  that,  flew 
in  through  the  window  and  bent  down  over  the 
little  ones'  beds. 

The  two  children  reached  up  their  arms.  "  Give 
us  your  feathers !  "  they  cried.  "  We  shall  die  if  you 
don't !  We  will  die  if  you  don't !  O,  do  !  "  But 
still  the  parent  birds  hesitated,  nor  knew  what  to  do. 

"  Bend  down,  and  let  me  whisper  something !  " 
said  the  boy  to  his  father  :  and  "  Bend  down,  and 
whisper ! "  cried  the  girl  to  her  mother.  And 
father  and  mother  bent  down  over  the  faces  of  their 
sick  children.  Then  these,  both  together,  caught 
hold  of  them,  and  crying,  "  Human  heart,  and 
human  form,  exchange  with  the  grey  heron  !  " 
pulled  off  their  parents'  feather-skins,  and  put  them 
upon  themselves. 

And  there  once  more  stood  Prince  Heron  and  the 
Princess  in  human  shape,  while  the  two  children 
had  turned  into  herons  in  their  place. 

The  young  herons  laughed  and  shouted  and 
clapped  their  wings  for  joy.  "  Are  you  not  happy 
now  ?  "  cried  they.  And  when  their  parents  saw 
the  joy,  not  only  in  their  children's  eyes,  but  in  each 
other's,  and  felt  their  hearts  growing  glad  in  the 

68 


bodies  they  had  regained,  then  they  owned  that  the 
Feather-pates  had  been  wise  in  their  generation, 
and  done  well  according  to  their  lights. 

So  it  came  about  that  the  Prince  and  the  Princess 
lived  happily  ever  after,  and  the  two  young  herons 
lived  happily  also,  and  were  the  best-hearted  birds 
the  world  ever  saw. 

In  course  of  time  the  Prince  and  Princess  had 
other  children,  who  pleased  the  old  King  better 
than  the  first  had  done.  But  the  parents  loved  none 
better  than  the  two  who  lived  as  herons  by  the  great 
fish-pond  in  the  wood  ;  nor  could  there  be  greater 
love  than  was  found  between  these  and  their  younger 
brothers  and  sisters,  whose  nature  it  was  to  be  real 
persons. 


THE  CROWN'S  WARRANTY 

FIVE  hundred  years  ago  or  more,  a  king  died, 
leaving  two  sons  :  one  was  the  child  of  his  first 
wife,  and  the  other  of  his  second,  who  surviving 
him  became  his  widow.  When  the  king  was  dying 
he  took  off  the  royal  crown  which  he  wore,  and  set 
it  upon  the  head  of  the  elder  born,  the  son  of  his 
first  wife,  and  said  to  him  :  "  God  is  the  lord  of  the 
air,  and  of  the  water,  and  of  the  dry  land  :  this  gift 
cometh  to  thee  from  God.  Be  merciful,  over  what- 
soever thou  holdest  power,  as  God  is ! "  And 
saying  these  words  he  laid  his  hands  upon  the  heads 
of  his  two  sons  and  died. 

Now  this  crown  was  no  ordinary  crown,  for  it 
was  made  of  the  gold  brought  by  the  Wise  Men  of  the 
East  when  they  came  to  worship  at  Bethlehem. 
Every  king  that  had  worn  it  since  then  had  reigned 
well  and  uprightly,  and  had  been  loved  by  all  his 
people ;  but  only  to  himself  was  it  known  what 
virtue  lay  in  his  crown  ;  and  every  king  at  dying 
gave  it  to  his  son  with  the  same  words  of  blessing. 

So,  now,  the  king's  eldest  son  wore  the  crown  ; 
and  his  step-mother  knew  that  her  own  son  could  not 
wear  it  while  he  lived,  therefore  she  looked  on  and 
said  nothing.  Now  he  was  known  to  all  the  people 
of  his  country,  because  of  his  right  to  the  throne, 
as  the  king's  son  ;  and  his  brother,  the  child  of  the 
second  wife,  was  called  the  queen's  son.  But  as 
yet  they  were  both  young,  and  cared  little  enough 
for  crowns. 

70 


After  the  king's  death  the  queen  was  made  regent 
till  the  king's  son  should  be  come  to  a  full  age  ;  but 
already  the  little  king  wore  the  royal  crown  his 
father  had  left  him,  and  the  queen  looked  on  and 
said  nothing. 

More  than  three  years  went  by,  and  everybody 
said  how  good  the  queen  was  to  the  little  king  who 
was  not  her  own  son ;  and  the  king's  son,  for  his 
part,  was  good  to  her  and  to  his  step-brother,  loving 
them  both ;  and  all  by  himself  he  kept  thinking, 
having  his  thoughts  guarded  and  circled  by  his 
golden  crown,  "  How  shall  I  learn  to  be  a  wise  king, 
and  to  be  merciful  when  I  have  power,  as  God  is  ?  " 

So  to  everything  that  came  his  way,  to  his  play- 
things and  his  pets,  to  his  ministers  and  his  servants, 
he  played  the  king  as  though  already  his  word  made 
life  and  death.  People  watching  him  said,  "  Every- 
thing that  has  touch  with  the  king's  son  loves  him." 
They  told  strange  tales  of  him  :  only  in  fairy  books 
could  they  be  believed,  because  they  were  so  beauti- 
ful ;  and  all  the  time  the  queen,  getting  a  good  name 
for  herself,  looked  on  and  said  nothing. 

One  night  the  king's  son  was  lying  half-asleep  upon 
his  bed,  with  wise  dreams  coming  and  going  under 
the  circle  of  his  gold  crown,  when  a  mouse  ran  out 
of  the  wainscot  and  came  and  jumped  up  upon  the 
couch.  The  poor  mouse  had  turned  quite  white 
with  fear  and  horror,  and  was  trembling  in  every 
limb  as  it  cried  its  news  into  the  king's  ear.  "  O 
king's  son,"  it  said,  "  get  up  and  run  for  your  life  ! 
I  was  behind  the  wainscot  in  the  queen's  closet,  and 
this  is  what  I  heard  :  if  you  stay  here,  when  you  wake 
up  to-morrow  you  will  be  dead  !  " 

71 


The  king's  son  got  up,  and  all  alone  in  the  dark 
night  stole  out  of  the  palace,  seeking  safety  for  his 
dear  life.  He  sighed  to  himself,  "  There  was  a  pain 
in  my  crown  ever  since  I  wore  it.  Alas,  mother,  I 
thought  you  were  too  kind  a  step- mother  to  do 
this !  " 

Outside  it  was  still  winter  :  there  was  no  warmth 
in  the  world,  and  not  a  leaf  upon  the  trees.  He 
wandered  away  and  away,  wondering  where  he  should 
hide. 

The  queen,  when  her  villains  came  and  told  her 
the  king's  son  was  not  to  be  found,  went  and  looked 
in  her  magic  crystal  to  find  trace  of  him.  As  soon 
as  it  grew  light,  for  in  the  darkness  the  crystal  could 
show  her  nothing,  she  saw  many  miles  away  the 
king's  son  running  to  hide  himself  in  the  forest.  So 
she  sent  out  her  villains  to  search  until  they  should 
find  him. 

As  they  went  the  sun  grew  hot  in  the  sky,  and  birds 
began  singing.  "  It  is  spring  !  "  cried  the  messengers. 
"  How  suddenly  it  has  come  !  "  They  rode  on  till 
they  came  to  the  forest. 

The  king's  son,  stumbling  along  through  the 
forest  under  the  bare  boughs,  thought,  "  Even 
here  where  shall  I  hide  ?  Nowhere  is  there  a  leaf 
to  cover  me."  But  when  the  sun  grew  warm  he 
looked  up  ;  and  there  were  all  the  trees  breaking 
into  bud  and  leaf,  making  a  green  heaven  above 
his  head.  So  when  he  was  too  weary  to  go  farther, 
he  climbed  into  the  largest  tree  he  could  find  ;  and 
the  leaves  covered  him. 

The  queen's  messengers  searched  through  all  the 
forest  but  could  not  find  him ;  so  they  went  back 

72 


to  her  empty  handed,  not  having  either  the  king's 
crown  or  his  heart  to  show.  "  Fools !  "  she  cried, 
looking  in  her  magic  crystal,  "  he  was  in  the  big 
sycamore  under  which  you  stopped  to  give  your 
horses  provender  !  " 

The  sycamore  said  to  the  king's  son,  "  The 
queen's  eye  is  on  you ;  get  down  and  run  for  your 
life  till  you  get  to  the  hollow  tarn-stones  among 
the  hills !  But  if  you  stay  here,  when  you  wake 
to-morrow  you  will  be  dead." 

When  the  queen's  messengers  came  once  more 
to  the  forest  they  found  it  all  wintry  again,  and 
without  leaf ;  only  the  sycamore  was  in  full  green, 
clapping  its  hands  for  joy  in  the  keen  and  bitter  air. 

The  messengers  searched,  and  beat  down  the 
leaves,  but  the  king's  son  was  not  there.  They  went 
back  to  the  queen.  She  looked  long  in  her  magic 
crystal,  but  little  could  she  see ;  for  the  king's 
son  had  hidden  himself  in  a  small  cave  beside  the 
tarn-stones,  and  into  the  darkness  the  crystal  could 
not  pry. 

Presently  she  saw  a  flight  of  birds  crossing  the 
blue,  and  every  bird  carried  a  few  crumbs  of  bread 
in  its  beak.  Then  she  ran  and  called  to  her  villains, 
"  Follow  the  birds,  and  they  will  take  you  to  where 
the  little  wizard  is ;  for  they  are  carrying  bread  to 
feed  him,  and  they  are  all  heading  for  the  tarn- 
stones  up  on  the  hills." 

The  birds  said  to  the  king's  son,  "  Now  you  are 
rested  ;  we  have  fed  you,  and  you  are  not  hungry. 
The  queen's  eye  is  on  you.  Up,  and  run  for  your 
life !  If  you  stay  here,  when  you  wake  up  to- 
morrow you  will  be  dead." 

75 


"  Where  shall  I  go  ?  "  said  the  king's  son. 
"  Go,"  answered  the  birds,  "  and  hide  in  the  rushes 
on  the  island  of  the  pool  of  sweet  waters !  " 

When  the  queen's  messengers  came  to  the  tarn- 
stones,  it  was  as  though  five  thousand  people  had 
been  feeding  :  they  found  crumbs  enough  to  fill 
twelve  baskets  full,  lying  in  the  cave  ;  but  no  king's 
son  could  they  lay  their  hands  on. 

The  king's  son  was  lying  hidden  among  the 
rushes  on  the  island  of  the  great  pool  of  sweet 
waters ;  and  thick  and  fast  came  silver-scaled  fishes, 
feeding  him. 

It  took  the  queen  three  days  of  hard  gazing  in 
her  crystal,  before  she  found  how  the  fishes  all 
swam  to  a  point  among  the  rushes  of  the  island  in 
the  pool  of  sweet  waters,  and  away  again.  Then 
she  knew :  and  running  to  her  messengers  she 
cried  :  "  He  is  among  the  rushes  on  the  island  in 
the  pool  of  sweet  waters ;  and  all  the  fishes  are 
feeding  him  !  " 

The  fishes  said  to  the  king's  son  :  "  The  queen's 
eye  is  on  you ;  up,  and  swim  to  shore,  and  away 
for  your  life !  For  if  they  come  and  find  you  here, 
when  you  wake  to-morrow  you  will  certainly  be 
dead." 

"  Where  shall  I  go  ? "  asked  the  king's  son. 
"  Wherever  I  go,  she  finds  me."  "  Go  to  the  old 
fox  who  gets  his  poultry  from  the  palace,  and  ask 
him  to  hide  you  in  his  burrow  !  " 

When  the  queen's  messengers  came  to  the  pool 
they  found  the  fishes  playing  at  alibis  all  about  in 
the  water ;  but  nothing  of  the  king's  son  could 
they  see. 


The  king's  son  came  to  the  fox,  and  the  fox  hid 
him  in  his  burrow,  and  brought  him  butter  and 
eggs  from  the  royal  dairy.  This  was  better  fare 
than  the  king's  son  had  had  since  the  beginning 
of  his  wanderings,  and  he  thanked  the  fox  warmly 
for  his  friendship.  "  On  the  contrary,"  said  the 
fox,  "  I  am  under  an  obligation  to  you ;  for  ever 
since  you  came  to  be  my  guest  I  have  felt  like  an 
honest  man."  "  If  I  live  to  be  king,"  said  the 
king's  son,  "  you  shall  always  have  butter  and  eggs 
from  the  royal  dairy,  and  be  as  honest  as  you  like." 

The  queen  hugged  her  magic  crystal  for  a  whole 
week,  but  could  make  nothing  out  of  it :  for  her 
crystal  showed  her  nothing  of  the  king's  son's 
hiding-place,  nor  of  the  fox  at  his  nightly  thefts  of 
butter  and  eggs  from  the  royal  dairy.  But  it  so 
happened  that  this  same  fox  was  a  sort  of  half- 
brother  of  the  queen's ;  and  so  guilty  did  he  feel 
with  his  brand-new  good  conscience  that  he  quite 
left  off  going  to  see  her.  So  in  a  little  while  the 
queen,  with  her  suspicions  and  her  magic  crystal, 
had  nosed  out  the  young  king's  hiding-place. 

The  fox  said  to  the  king's  son  :  "  The  queen's  eye 
is  on  you  !  Get  out  and  run  for  your  life,  for  if 
you  stay  here  till  to-morrow,  you  will  wake  up  and 
find  yourself  a  dead  goose !  " 

"  But  where  else  can  I  go  to  ?  "  asked  the  king's 
son.  "  Is  there  any  place  left  for  me  ?  "  The  fox 
laughed,  and  winked,  and  whispered  a  word ;  and 
all  at  once  the  king's  son  got  up  and  went. 

The  queen  had  said  to  her  messengers,  "  Go  and 
look  in  the  fox's  hole ;  and  you  shall  find  him !  " 
But  the  messengers  came  and  dug  up  the  burrow, 

77 


and  found  butter  and  eggs  from  the  royal  dairy, 
but  of  the  king's  son  never  a  sign. 

The  king's  son  came  to  the  palace,  and  as  he 
crept  through  the  gardens  he  found  there  his  little 
brother  alone  at  play, — playing  sadly  because  now 
he  was  all  alone.  Then  the  king's  son  stopped  and 
said,  "  Little  brother,  do  you  so  much  wish  to  be 
king  ?  "  And  taking  off  the  crown,  he  put  it  upon 
his  brother's  head.  Then  he  went  on  through 
underground  ways  and  corridors,  till  he  came  to 
the  palace  dungeons. 

Now  a  dungeon  is  a  hard  thing  to  get  out  of, 
but  it  is  easy  enough  to  get  into.  He  came  to  the 
deepest  and  darkest  dungeon  of  all,  and  there  he 
opened  the  door,  and  went  in  and  hid  himself. 

The  queen's  son  came  running  to  his  mother, 
wearing  the  king's  crown.  "  Oh,  mother,"  he  said, 
"  I  am  frightened  !  while  I  was  playing,  my  brother 
came  looking  all  dead  and  white,  and  put  this  crown 
on  my  head.  Take  it  off  for  me,  it  hurts !  " 

When  the  queen  saw  the  crown  on  her  son's 
head,  she  was  horribly  afraid ;  for  that  it  should 
have  so  come  there  was  the  most  unlikely  thing  of 
all.  She  fetched  her  crystal  ball,  and  looked  in, 
asking  where  the  king's  son  might  be,  and,  for 
answer,  the  crystal  became  black  as  night. 

Then  said  the  queen  to  herself,  "  He  is  dead  at 
last !  " 

But,  now  that  the  king's  crown  was  on  the 
wrong  head,  the  air,  and  the  water,  and  the  dry 
land,  over  which  God  is  lord,  heard  of  it.  And  the 
trees  said,  "  Until  the  king's  son  returns,  we  will 
not  put  forth  bud  or  leaf  !  " 

78 


And  the  birds  said,  "  We  will  not  sing  in  the 
land,  or  breed  or  build  nests  until  the  king's  son 
returns !  " 

And  the  fishes  said,  "  We  will  not  stay  in  the 
ponds  or  rivers  to  get  caught,  unless  the  king's 
son,  to  whom  we  belong,  returns !  " 

And  the  foxes  said,  "  Unless  the  king's  son  re- 
turns, we  will  increase  and  multiply  exceedingly 
and  be  like  locusts  in  the  land  !  " 

So  all  through  that  land  the  trees,  though  it 
was  spring,  stayed  as  if  it  were  mid-winter ;  and 
all  the  fishes  swam  down  to  the  sea ;  and  all  the 
birds  flew  over  the  sea,  away  into  other  countries ; 
and  all  the  foxes  increased  and  multiplied,  and 
became  like  locusts  in  the  land. 

Now  when  the  trees,  and  the  birds,  and  the 
beasts,  and  the  fishes  led  the  way  the  good  folk  of 
the  country  discovered  that  the  queen  was  a 
criminal.  So,  after  the  way  of  the  flesh,  they  took 
the  queen  and  her  little  son,  and  bound  them,  and 
threw  them  into  the  deepest  and  darkest  dungeon 
they  could  find  ;  and  said  they  :  "  Until  you  tell 
us  where  the  king's  son  is,  there  you  stay  and 
starve !  " 

The  king's  son  was  playing  all  alone  in  his  dun- 
geon with  the  mice  who  brought  him  food  from 
the  palace  larder,  when  the  queen  and  her  son 
were  thrown  down  to  him  fast  bound,  as  though 
he  were  as  dangerous  as  a  den  of  lions.  At  first  he 
was  terribly  afraid  when  he  found  himself  pursued 
into  his  last  hiding-place  ;  but  presently  he  gathered 
from  the  queen's  remarks  that  she  was  quite  power- 
less to  do  him  harm. 

79 


"  Oh,  what  a  wicked  woman  I  am  !  "  she  moaned  ; 
and  began  crying  lamentably,  as  if  she  hoped  to 
melt  the  stone  walls  which  formed  her  prison. 

Presently  her  little  son  cried,  "  Mother,  take  off 
my  brother's  crown ;  it  pricks  me !  "  And  the 
king's  son  sat  in  his  corner,  and  cried  to  himself 
with  grief  over  the  harm  that  his  step- mother's 
wickedness  had  brought  about. 

"  Mother,"  cried  the  queen's  son  again,  "  night 
and  day  since  I  have  worn  it,  it  pricks  me ;  I 
cannot  sleep  !  " 

But  the  queen's  heart  was  still  hard  ;  not  if  she 
could  help,  would  she  yet  take  off  from  her  son 
the  crown. 

Hours  went  by,  and  the  queen  and  her  son  grew 
hungry.  "  We  shall  be  starved  to  death  !  "  she 
cried.  "  Now  I  see  what  a  wicked  woman  I 


am 


I  " 


"  Mother,"  cried  the  queen's  son,  "  someone  is 
putting  food  into  my  mouth !  "  "  No  one,"  said 
the  queen,  "  is  putting  any  into  mine.  Now  I 
know  what  a  wicked  woman  I  am  !  " 

Presently  the  king's  son  came  to  the  queen  also, 
and  began  feeding  her.  "  Someone  is  putting  food 
into  my  mouth,  now !  "  cried  the  queen.  "  If  it 
is  poisoned  I  shall  die  in  agony  !  I  wish,"  she  said, 
"  I  wish  I  knew  your  brother  were  not  dead  ;  if  I 
have  killed  him  what  a  wicked  woman  I  am !  " 

"  Dear  step-mother,"  said  the  king's  son,  "  I  am 
not  dead,  I  am  here." 

"  Here  ?  "  cried  the  queen,  shaking  with  fright. 
"  Here  ?  not  dead !  How  long  have  you  been 
here  ?  " 

80 


"  Days,  and  days,  and  days,"  said  the  king's  son, 
sadly. 

"  Ah  !  if  I  had  only  known  that !  "  cried  the 
queen.  "  Now  I  know  what  a  wicked  woman  I 
am!" 

Just  then,  the  trap-door  in  the  roof  of  the  dun- 
geon opened,  and  a  voice  called  down,  "  Tell  us 
where  is  the  king's  son  !  If  you  do  not  tell  us,  you 
shall  stay  here  and  starve." 

"  The  king's  son  is  here  !  "    cried  the  queen. 

"  A  likely  story  !  "  answered  the  gaolers.  "  Do 
you  think  we  are  going  to  believe  that  ?  "  And 
they  shut-to  the  trap. 

The  queen's  son  cried,  "  Dear  brother,  come  and 
take  back  your  crown,  it  pricks  so !  "  But  the 
king's  son  only  undid  the  queen's  bonds  and  his 
brother's.  "  Now,"  said  he,  "  you  are  free  :  you 
can  kill  me  now." 

"  Oh !  "  cried  the  queen,  "  what  a  wicked 
woman  I  must  be !  Do  you  think  I  could  do  it 
now  ?  "  Then  she  cried,  "  O  little  son,  bring  your 
poor  head  to  me,  and  I  will  take  off  the  crown  !  " 
and  she  took  off  the  crown  and  gave  it  back  to  the 
king's  son.  "  When  I  am  dead,"  she  said,  "  re- 
member, and  be  kind  to  him  !  " 

The  king's  son  put  the  crown  upon  his  own  head. 

Suddenly,  outside  the  palace,  all  the  land  broke 
into  leaf ;  there  was  a  rushing  sound  in  the  river 
of  fishes  swimming  up  from  the  sea,  and  all  the  air 
was  loud  and  dark  with  flights  of  returning  birds. 
Almost  at  the  same  moment  the  foxes  began  to 
disappear  and  diminish,  and  cease  to  be  like  locusts 
in  the  land. 

F  81 


People  came  running  to  open  the  door  of  the 
deepest  and  darkest  dungeon  in  the  palace  :  "  For 
either,"  they  cried,  "  the  queen  is  dead,  or  the 
king's  son  has  been  found !  " 

"  Where  is  the  king's  son,  then  ?  "  they  called 
out,  as  they  threw  wide  the  door.  "  He  is  here  !  " 
cried  the  king ;  and  out  he  came,  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  all,  wearing  his  crown,  and  leading  his 
step- mother  and  half-brother  by  the  hand. 

He  looked  at  his  step-mother,  and  she  was  quite 
white;  as  white  as  the  mouse  that  had  jumped 
upon  the  king's  bed  at  midnight  bidding  him  fly 
for  his  life.  Not  only  her  face,  but  her  hair,  her 
lips,  and  her  very  eyes  were  white  and  colourless, 
for  she  had  gone  blind  from  gazing  too  hard  into 
her  crystal  ball,  and  hunting  the  king's  son  to  death. 

So  she  remained  blind  to  the  end  of  her  days ; 
but  the  king  was  more  good  to  her  than  gold,  and 
as  for  his  brother,  never  did  half-brothers  love  each 
other  better  than  these.  Therefore  they  all  lived 
very  happily  together,  and  after  a  long  time,  the 
queen  learned  to  forget  what  a  wicked  woman  she 
had  been. 


82 


ROCKING-HORSE  LAND 

LITTLE    Prince  Freedling  woke  up  with    a 
jump,  and  sprang  out  of  bed  into  the  sun- 
shine.    He  was  five  years  old  that  morning, 
by  all  the  clocks  and  calendars  in  the  kingdom  ;   and 
the  day  was  going  to  be  beautiful.     Every  golden 
minute  was  precious.     He  was  dressed  and  out  of 
his  room  before  the  attendants  knew  that  he  was 
awake. 

In  the  ante-chamber  stood  piles  on  piles  of  glit- 
tering presents ;  when  he  walked  among  them  they 
came  up  to  the  measure  of  his  waist.  His  fairy 
godmother  had  sent  him  a  toy  with  the  most 
humorous  effect.  It  was  labelled,  "  Break  me  and 
I  shall  turn  into  something  else."  So  every  time 
he  broke  it  he  got  a  new  toy  more  beautiful  than 
the  last.  It  began  by  being  a  hoop,  and  from  that 
it  ran  on,  while  the  Prince  broke  it  incessantly  for 
the  space  of  one  hour,  during  which  it  became  by 
turn — a  top,  a  Noah's  ark,  a  skipping-rope,  a  man- 
of-war,  a  box  of  bricks,  a  picture  puzzle,  a  pair  of 
stilts,  a  drum,  a  trumpet,  a  kaleidoscope,  a  steam- 
engine,  and  nine  hundred  and  fifty  other  things 
exactly.  Then  he  began  to  grow  discontented, 
because  it  would  never  turn  into  the  same  thing 
again ;  and  after  having  broken  the  man-of-war  he 
wanted  to  get  it  back  again.  Also  he  wanted  to  see 
if  the  steam-engine  would  go  inside  the  Noah's 
ark ;  but  the  toy  would  never  be  two  thing  sat  the 
same  time  either.  This  was  very  unsatisfactory. 

83 


He  thought  his  fairy  godmother  ought  to  have 
sent  him  two  toys,  out  of  which  he  could  make 
combinations. 

At  last  he  broke  it  once  more,  and  it  turned 
into  a  kite ;  and  while  he  was  flying  the  kite  he 
broke  the  string,  and  the  kite  went  sailing  away 
up  into  nasty  blue  sky,  and  was  never  heard  of 
again. 

Then  Prince  Freedling  sat  down  and  howled  at 
his  fairy-godmother  ;  what  a  dissembling  lot  fairy- 
godmothers  were,  to  be  sure  !  They  were  always 
setting  traps  to  make  their  god-children  unhappy. 
Nevertheless,  when  told  to,  he  took  up  his  pen  and 
wrote  her  a  nice  little  note,  full  of  bad  spelling  and 
tarradiddles,  to  say  what  a  happy  birthday  he  was 
spending  in  breaking  up  the  beautiful  toy  she  had 
sent  him. 

Then  he  went  to  look  at  the  rest  of  the  presents, 
and  found  it  quite  refreshing  to  break  a  few  that 
did  not  send  him  giddy  by  turning  into  anything 
else. 

Suddenly  his  eyes  became  fixed  with  delight ; 
alone,  right  at  the  end  of  the  room,  stood  a  great 
black  rocking-horse.  The  saddle  and  bridle  were 
hung  with  tiny  gold  bells  and  balls  of  coral ;  and 
the  horse's  tail  and  mane  flowed  till  they  almost 
touched  the  ground. 

The  Prince  scampered  across  the  room,  and  threw 
his  arms  around  the  beautiful  creature's  neck.  All 
its  bells  jangled  as  the  head  swayed  gracefully 
down ;  and  the  prince  kissed  it  between  the  eyes. 
Great  eyes  they  were,  the  colour  of  fire,  so 
wonderfully  bright,  it  seemed  they  must  be  really 


alive,  only  they  did  not  move,  but  gazed  con- 
tinually with  a  set  stare  at  the  tapestry-hung  wall, 
on  which  were  figures  of  armed  knights  riding  to 
battle. 

So  Prince  Freedling  mounted  to  the  back  of 
his  rocking-horse ;  and  all  day  long  he  rode  and 
shouted  to  the  figures  of  the  armed  knights, 
challenging  them  to  fight,  or  leading  them  against 
the  enemy. 

At  length,  when  it  came  to  be  bedtime,  weary 
of  so  much  glory,  he  was  lifted  down  from  the 
saddle  and  carried  away  to  bed. 

In  his  sleep  Freedling  still  felt  his  black  rocking- 
horse  swinging  to  and  fro  under  him,  and  heard 
the  melodious  chime  of  its  bells,  and,  in  the 
land  of  dreams,  saw  a  great  country  open  before 
him,  full  of  the  sound  of  the  battle-cry  and  the 
hunting-horn  calling  him  to  strange  perils  and 
triumphs. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  he  grew  softly  awake, 
and  his  heart  was  full  of  love  for  his  black  rocking- 
horse.  He  crept  gently  out  of  bed  :  he  would  go 
and  look  at  it  where  it  was  standing  so  grand  and 
still  in  the  next  room,  to  make  sure  that  it  was  all 
safe  and  not  afraid  of  being  by  itself  in  the  dark 
night.  Parting  the  door-hangings  he  passed  through 
into  the  wide  hollow  chamber  beyond,  all  littered 
about  with  toys. 

The  moon  was  shining  in  through  the  window, 
making  a  square  cistern  of  light  upon  the  floor. 
And  then,  all  at  once,  he  saw  that  the  rocking- 
horse  had  moved  from  the  place  where  he  had  left 
it !  It  had  crossed  the  room,  and  was  standing 


close  to  the  window,  with  its  head  toward  the 
night,  as  though  watching  the  movement  of  the 
clouds  and  the  trees  swaying  in  the  wind. 

The  Prince  could  not  understand  how  it  had 
been  moved  so ;  he  was  a  little  bit  afraid,  and 
stealing  timidly  across,  he  took  hold  of  the  bridle 
to  comfort  himself  with  the  jangle  of  its  bells. 
As  he  came  close,  and  looked  up  into  the  dark 
solemn  face  he  saw  that  the  eyes  were  full  of 
tears,  and  reaching  up  felt  one  fall  warm  against 
his  hand. 

"  Why  do  you  weep,  my  Beautiful  ?  "  said  the 
Prince. 

The  rocking-horse  answered,  "  I  weep  because  I 
am  a  prisoner,  and  not  free.  Open  the  vindow, 
Master,  and  let  me  go  !  " 

"  But  if  I  let  you  go  I  shall  lose  you,"  said 
the  Prince.  "  Cannot  you  be  happy  here  with 
me?" 

"  Let  me  go,"  said  the  horse,  "  for  my  brothers 
call  me  out  of  Rocking-Horse  Land ;  I  hear  my 
mare  whinnying  to  her  foals ;  and  they  all  cry, 
seeking  me  through  the  ups  and  hollows  of  my 
native  fastnesses !  Sweet  Master,  let  me  go  this 
night,  and  I  will  return  to  you  when  it  is 
day !  " 

Then  Freedling  said,  "  How  shall  I  know  that 
you  will  return  :  and  what  name  shall  I  call  you 
by?" 

And  the  rocking-horse  answered,  "  My  name  is 
Rollonde.  Search  my  mane  till  you  find  in  it  a 
white  hair ;  draw  it  out  and  wind  it  upon  one  of 
your  fingers ;  and  so  long  as  you  have  it  so  wound 

86 


you  are  my  master  ;  and  wherever  I  am  I  must 
return  at  your  bidding." 

So  the  Prince  drew  down  the  rocking-horse's 
head,  and  searching  the  mane,  he  found  the  white 
hair,  and  wound  it  upon  his  finger  and  tied  it. 
Then  he  kissed  Rollonde  between  the  eyes,  saying, 
"  Go,  Rollonde,  since  I  love  you,  and  wish  you  to 
be  happy ;  only  return  to  me  when  it  is  day !  " 
And  so  saying,  he  threw  open  the  window  to  the 
stir  of  the  night. 

Then  the  rocking-horse  lifted  his  dark  head 
and  neighed  aloud  for  joy,  and  swaying  forward 
with  a  mighty  circling  motion  rose  full  into  the 
air,  and  sprang  out  into  the  free  world  before 
him. 

Freedling  watched  how  with  plunge  and  curve 
he  went  over  the  bowed  trees  ;  and  again  he  neighed 
into  the  darkness  of  the  night,  then  swifter  than 
wind  disappeared  in  the  distance.  And  faintly 
from  far  away  came  a  sound  of  the  neighing  of  many 
horses  answering  him. 

Then  the  Prince  closed  the  window  and  crept 
back  to  bed  ;  and  all  night  long  he  dreamed  strange 
dreams  of  Rocking-Horse  Land.  There  he  saw 
smooth  hills  and  valleys  that  rose  and  sank  without 
a  stone  or  a  tree  to  disturb  the  steel-like  polish  of 
their  surface,  slippery  as  glass,  and  driven  over  by 
a  strong  wind ;  and  over  them,  with  a  sound  like 
the  humming  of  bees,  flew  the  rocking-horses. 
Up  and  down,  up  and  down,  with  bright  manes 
streaming  like  coloured  fires,  and  feet  motionless 
behind  and  before,  went  the  swift  pendulum  of 
their  flight.  Their  long  bodies  bowed  and  rose ; 

87 


their  heads  worked  to  give  impetus  to  their 
going  ;  they  cried,  neighing  to  each  other  over 
hill  and  valley,  "  Which  of  us  shall  be  first  ? 
which  of  us  shall  be  first  ? "  After  them  the 
mares  with  their  tall  foals  came  spinning  to  watch, 
crying  also  among  themselves,  "  Ah !  which  shall 
be  first  ?  " 

"  Rollonde,  Rollonde  is  first ! "  shouted  the 
Prince,  clapping  his  hands  as  they  reached  the  goal ; 
and  at  that,  all  at  once,  he  woke  and  saw  it  was 
broad  day.  Then  he  ran  and  threw  open  the 
window,  and  holding  out  the  finger  that  carried 
the  white  hair,  cried,  "  Rollonde,  Rollonde,  come 
back,  Rollonde !  " 

Far  away  he  heard  an  answering  sound ;  and  in 
another  moment  there  came  the  great  rocking- 
horse  himself,  dipping  and  dancing  over  the  hills. 
He  crossed  the  woods  and  cleared  the  palace-wall  at 
a  bound,  and  floating  in  through  the  window, 
dropped  to  rest  at  Prince  Freedling's  side,  rocking 
gently  to  and  fro  as  though  panting  from  the  strain 
of  his  long  flight. 

"  Now  are  you  happy  ?  "  asked  the  Prince  as  he 
caressed  him. 

"  Ah  !  sweet  Prince,"  said  Rollonde,  "  ah,  kind 
Master  !  "  And  then  he  said  no  more,  but  became 
the  still  stock  staring  rocking-horse  of  the  day  before, 
with  fixed  eyes  and  rigid  limbs,  which  could  do  noth- 
ing but  rock  up  and  down  with  a  jangling  of  sweet 
bells  so  long  as  the  Prince  rode  him. 

That  night  Freedling  came  again  when  all  was 
still  in  the  palace  ;  and  now  as  before  Rollonde  had 
moved  from  his  place  and  was  standing  with  his 

88 


head  against  the  window  waiting  to  be  let  out. 
"  Ah,  dear  Master,"  he  said,  so  soon  as  he  saw  the 
Prince  coming,  "  let  me  go  this  night  also,  and 
surely  I  will  return  with  day." 

So  again  the  Prince  opened  the  window,  and 
watched  him  disappear,  and  heard  from  far  away  the 
neighing  of  the  horses  in  Rocking-Horse  Land 
calling  to  him.  And  in  the  morning  with  the 
white  hair  round  his  finger  he  called  "  Rollonde, 
Rollonde !  "  and  Rollonde  neighed  and  came  back 
to  him,  dipping  and  dancing  over  the  hills. 

Now  this  same  thing  happened  every  night ; 
and  every  morning  the  horse  kissed  Freedling, 
saying,  "  Ah  !  dear  Prince  and  kind  Master,"  and 
became  stock  still  once  more. 

So  a  year  went  by,  till  one  morning  Freedling 
woke  up  to  find  it  was  his  sixth  birthday.  And  as 
six  is  to  five,  so  were  the  presents  he  received  on  his 
sixth  birthday  for  magnificence  and  multitude  to 
the  presents  he  had  received  the  year  before.  His 
fairy  godmother  had  sent  him  a  bird,  a  real  live  bird  ; 
but  when  he  pulled  its  tail  it  became  a  lizard,  and 
when  he  pulled  the  lizard's  tail  it  became  a  mouse, 
and  when  he  pulled  the  mouse's  tail  it  became  a  cat. 
Then  he  did  very  much  want  to  see  if  the  cat  would 
eat  the  mouse,  and  not  being  able  to  have  them  both 
he  got  rather  vexed  with  his  fairy  godmother.  How- 
ever, he  pulled  the  cat's  tail  and  the  cat  became  a  dog, 
and  when  he  pulled  the  dog's  the  dog  became  a 
goat ;  and  so  it  went  on  till  he  got  to  a  cow.  And 
he  pulled  the  cow's  tail  and  it  became  a  camel,  and 
he  pulled  the  camel's  tail  and  it  became  an  elephant, 
and  still  not  being  contented,  he  pulled  the  ele- 

91 


phant's  tail  and  it  became  a  guinea-pig.  Now  a 
guinea-pig  has  no  tail  to  pull,  so  it  remained  a 
guinea-pig,  while  Prince  Freedling  sat  down  and 
howled  at  his  fairy  godmother. 

But  the  best  of  all  his  presents  was  the  one  given 
to  him  by  the  King  his  father.  It  was  a  most  beauti- 
ful horse,  for,  said  the  King,  "  You  are  now  old 
enough  to  learn  to  ride." 

So  Freedling  was  put  upon  the  horse's  back,  and 
from  having  ridden  so  long  upon  his  rocking-horse 
he  learned  to  ride  perfectly  in  a  single  day,  and  was 
declared  by  all  the  courtiers  to  be  the  most  perfect 
equestrian  that  was  ever  seen. 

Now  these  praises  and  the  pleasure  of  riding  a 
real  horse  so  occupied  his  thoughts  that  that  night 
he  forgot  all  about  Rollonde,  and  falling  fast 
asleep  dreamed  of  nothing  but  real  horses  and 
horsemen  going  to  battle.  And  so  it  was  the  next 
night  too. 

But  the  night  after  that,  just  as  he  was  falling 
asleep,  he  heard  someone  sobbing  by  his  bed,  and 
a  voice  saying,  "  Ah  !  dear  Prince  and  kind  Master, 
let  me  go,  for  my  heart  breaks  for  a  sight  of  my  native 
land."  And  there  stood  his  poor  rocking-horse 
Rollonde,  with  tears  falling  out  of  his  beautiful  eyes 
on  to  the  white  coverlet. 

Then  the  Prince,  full  of  shame  at  having  forgotten 
his  friend,  sprang  up  and  threw  his  arms  round  his 
neck  saying,  "  Be  of  good  cheer,  Rollonde,  for  now 
surely  I  will  let  thee  go  !  "  and  he  ran  to  the  window 
and  opened  it  for  the  horse  to  go  through.  "  Ah, 
dear  rrince  and  kind  Master ! "  said  Rollonde. 
Then  he  lifted  his  head  and  neighed  so  that  the 

92 


whole  palace  shook,  and  swaying  forward  till  his 
head  almost  touched  the  ground  he  sprang  out 
into  the  night  and  away  towards  Rocking-Horse 
Land. 

Then  Prince  Freedling,  standing  by  the  window, 
thoughtfully  unloosed  the  white  hair  from  his 
finger,  and  let  it  float  away  into  the  darkness,  out 
of  sight  of  his  eye  or  reach  of  his  hand. 

"  Good-bye,  Rollonde,"  he  murmured  softly, 
"  brave  Rollonde,  my  own  good  Rollonde  !  Go  and 
be  happy  in  your  own  land,  since  I,  your  Master,  was 
forgetting  to  be  kind  to  you."  And  far  away  he 
heard  the  neighing  of  horses  in  Rocking-Horse 
Land. 

Many  years  after,  when  Freedling  had  become 
King  in  his  father's  stead,  the  fifth  birthday  of  the 
Prince  his  son  came  to  be  celebrated  ;  and  there  on 
the  morning  of  the  day,  among  all  the  presents 
that  covered  the  floor  of  the  chamber,  stood  a  beauti- 
ful foal  rocking-horse,  black,  with  deep- burning 
eyes. 

No  one  knew  how  it  had  come  there,  or  whose 
present  it  was,  till  the  King  himself  came  to  look 
at  it.  And  when  he  saw  it  so  like  the  old  Rollonde 
he  had  loved  as  a  boy,  he  smiled,  and,  stroking  its 
dark  mane,  said  softly  in  its  ear,  "  Art  thou,  then, 
the  son  of  Rollonde  ?  "  And  the  foal  answered  him, 
"  Ah,  dear  Prince  and  kind  Master  !  "  but  never  a 
word  more. 

Then  the  King  took  the  little  Prince  his  son,  and 
told  him  the  story  of  Rollonde  as  I  have  told  it  here  ; 
and  at  the  end  he  went  and  searched  in  the  foal's 
mane  till  he  found  one  white  hair,  and,  drawing  it 

93 


out,  he  wound  it  about  the  little  Prince's  finger, 
bidding  him  guard  it  well  and  be  ever  a  kind  master 
to  Rollonde's  son. 

So  here  is  my  story  of  Rollonde  come  to  a  good 
ending. 


94 


JAPONEL 

THERE  was  once  upon  a  time  a  young  girl 
named  Japonel,  the  daughter  of  a  wood- 
cutter, and  of  all  things  that  lived  by  the 
woodside,  she  was  the  most  fair. 

Her  hair  in  its  net  was  like  a  snared  sunbeam,  and 
her  face  like  a  spring  over  which  roses  leaned  down 
and  birds  hung  fluttering  to  drink — such  being  the 
in-dwelling  presence  of  her  eyes  and  her  laughing 
lips  and  her  cheeks. 

Whenever  she  crossed  the  threshold  of  her  home, 
the  birds  and  the  flowers  began  calling  to  her, 
"  Look  up,  Japonel !  Look  down,  Japonel !  "  for 
the  sight  of  the  sweet  face  they  loved  so  much.  The 
squirrel  called  over  its  bough,  "  Look  up,  Japonel !  " 
and  the  rabbit  from  between  the  roots,"  Japonel, look 
down  !  "  And  Japonel,  as  she  went,  looked  up  and 
looked  down,  and  laughed,  thinking  what  a  sweet- 
sounding  place  the  world  was. 

Her  mother,  looking  at  her  from  day  to  day, 
became  afraid :  she  said  to  the  wood-cutter, 
"  Our  child  is  too  fair ;  she  will  get  no  good 
of  it." 

But  her  husband  answered,  "  Good  wife,  why 
should  it  trouble  you  ?  What  is  there  in  these 
quiet  parts  that  can  harm  her  ?  Keep  her  only 
from  the  pond  in  the  wood,  lest  the  pond-witch  see 
her  and  become  envious." 

"  Do  not  go  near  water,  or  you  may  fall  in  !  " 
said  her  mother  one  day  as  she  saw  Japonel  bending 

95 


down  to  look  at  her  face  in  a  rain-puddle  by  the 
road. 

Japonel  laughed  softly.  "  O  silly  little  mother, 
how  can  I  fall  into  a  puddle  that  is  not  large  enough 
for  my  two  feet  to  stand  in  ?  " 

But  the  mother  thought  to  herself,  when  Japonel 
grows  older  and  finds  the  pond  in  the  wood,  she  will 
go  there  to  look  at  her  face,  unless  she  has  something 
better  to  see  it  in  at  home.  So  from  the  next  pedlar 
who  came  that  way  she  bought  a  little  mirror  and 
gave  it  to  Japonel,  that  in  it  she  might  see  her  face 
with  its  spring-like  beauty,  and  so  have  no  cause  to 
go  near  the  pond  in  the  wood.  The  lovely  girl,  who 
had  never  seen  a  mirror  in  her  life,  took  the  rounded 
glass  in  her  hand  and  gazed  for  a  long  time  without 
speaking,  wondering  more  and  more  at  her  own 
loveliness.  Then  she  went  softly  away  with  it  into 
her  own  chamber,  and  wishing  to  find  a  name  for  a 
thing  she  loved  so  much,  she  called  it,  "  Stream's 
eye,"  and  hung  it  on  the  wall  beside  her  bed. 

In  the  days  that  followed,  the  door  of  her  chamber 
would  be  often  shut,  and  her  face  seldom  seen  save 
of  herself  alone.  And  "  Look  up,  Japonel !  Look 
down,  Japonel !  "  was  a  sound  she  no  longer  cared  to 
hear  as  she  went  through  the  woods ;  for  the 
memory  of  "  Stream's  eye  "  was  like  a  dream  that 
clung  to  her,  and  floated  in  soft  ripples  on  her 
face. 

She  grew  tall  like  an  aspen,  and  more  fair,  but  pale. 
Her  mother  said,  "  Woe  is  me,  for  now  I  have  made 
her  vain  through  showing  her  her  great  beauty." 
And  to  Japonel  herself  she  said,  "  Oh,  my  beautiful, 
my  bright  darling,  though  I  have  made  thee  vain,  I 

96 


pray  th.ee  to  punish  me  not.  Do  not  go  near  the 
pond  in  the  wood  to  look  in  it,  or  an  evil  thing  will 
happen  to  thee."  And  Japonel  smiled  dreamily 
amid  half- thoughts,  and  kissing  her  mother,  "  Dear 
mother,"  she  said,  "  does  '  Stream's  eye '  tell  me 
everything  of  my  beauty,  or  am  I  in  other  eyes  still 
fairer  ?  "  Then  her  mother  answered  sadly,  "  Nay, 
but  I  trust  the  open  Eye  of  God  finds  in  thee  a  better 
beauty  than  thy  mirror  can  tell  thee  of." 

Japonel,  when  she  heard  that  answer,  went  away 
till  she  came  to  the  pond  in  the  wood.  It  lay  down 
in  a  deep  hollow,  and  drank  light  out  of  a  clear  sky, 
which,  through  a  circle  of  dark  boughs,  ever  looked 
down  on  it.  "  Perhaps,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  it 
is  here  that  God  will  open  His  Eye  and  show  me  how 
much  fairer  I  am  than  even  *  Stream's  eye '  can  tell 
me."  But  she  thought  once  of  her  mother's  words, 
and  went  by. 

Then  she  turned  again,  "  It  is  only  that  my 
mother  fears  lest  I  become  vain.  What  harm  can 
come  if  I  do  look  once  ?  it  will  be  in  my  way  home." 
So  she  crept  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  pond,  saying 
to  herself,  "  To  see  myself  once  as  fair  as  God  sees 
me  cannot  be  wrong.  Surely  that  will  not  make  me 
more  vain."  And  when  she  came  through  the  last 
trees,  and  stood  near  the  brink,  she  saw  before  her  a 
little  old  woman,  dressed  in  green,  kneeling  by  the 
water  and  looking  in. 

"  There  at  least,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  is  one  who 
looks  in  without  any  harm  happening  to  her.  I 
wonder  what  it  is  she  sees  that  she  stays  there  so  still." 
And  coming  a  little  nearer,  "  Good  dame,"  called 
Japonel,  "  what  is  it  you  have  found  there,  that  you 

c  97 


gaze  at  so  hard  ?  "  And  the  old  woman,  without 
moving  or  looking  up,  answered,  "  My  own  face ; 
but  a  hundred  times  younger  and  fairer,  as  it  was  in 
my  youth." 

Then  thought  Japonel,  "  How  should  I  look  now, 
who  am  fair  and  in  the  full  bloom  of  my  youth  ? 
It  is  because  my  mother  fears  lest  I  shall  become  vain 
that  she  warned  me."  So  she  came  quickly  and  knelt 
down  by  the  old  woman  and  looked  in.  And  even 
as  she  caught  sight  of  her  face  gazing  up,  pale  and 
tremulous  ("  Quick,  go  away !  "  its  lips  seemed  to 
be  saying),  the  old  woman  slid  down  from  the  bank 
and  caught  hold  of  her  reflection  with  green,  weed- 
like  arms,  and  drew  it  away  into  the  pool's  still 
depths  below.  Beneath  Japonel's  face  lay  nothing 
now  but  blank  dark  water,  and  far  away  in,  a  faint 
face  gazed  back  beseeching,  and  its  lips  moved  with 
an  imprisoned  prayer  that  might  not  make  itself 
heard.  Only  three  bubbles  rose  to  the  surface,  and 
broke  into  three  separate  sighs  like  the  shadow  of 
her  own  name.  Then  the  pond-witch  stirred  the 
mud,  and  all  trace  of  that  lost  image  went  out,  and 
Japonel  was  left  alone. 

She  rose,  expecting  to  see  nothing,  to  be  blind ; 
but  the  woods  were  there,  night  shadows  were  gath- 
ering to  their  tryst  under  the  boughs,  and  brighter 
stars  had  begun  blotting  the  semi- brightness  of  the 
sky.  All  the  way  home  she  went  feebly,  not  yet 
resolved  of  the  evil  that  had  come  upon  her.  She 
stole  quietly  to  her  own  little  room  in  the  fading 
light,  and  took  down  "  Stream's  eye "  from  the 
wall.  Then  she  fell  forward  upon  the  bed,  for 
all  the  surface  of  her  glass  was  grown  blank : 


never  could  she  hope  to  look  upon  her  own  face 
again. 

The  next  morning  she  hung  her  head  low,  for 
she  feared  all  her  beauty  was  flown  from  her,  till 
she  heard  her  father  say,  "  Wife,  each  day  it  seems 
to  me  our  Japonel  grows  more  fair."  And  her 
mother  answered,  sighing,  "  She  is  too  fair,  I  know." 

Then  Japonel  set  out  once  more  for  the  pond  in  the 
wood.  As  she  went  the  birds  and  the  flowers  sang 
to  her,  "  Look  up,  Japonel ;  look  down,  Japonel !  " 
but  Japonel  went  on,  giving  them  no  heed.  She 
came  to  the  water's  side,  and  leaning  over,  saw 
far  down  in  a  tangle  of  green  weeds  a  face  that  looked 
back  to  hers,  faint  and  blurred  by  the  shimmering 
movement  of  the  water.  Then,  weeping,  she  wrung 
her  hands  and  cried  : 

"  Ah  !   sweet  face  of  Japonel, 
Beauty  and  grace  of  Japonel, 
Image  and  eyes  of  Japonel, 
'  Come  back  ! '  sighs  Japonel." 

And  bubble  by  bubble  a  faint  answer  was  returned 
that  broke  like  a  sob  on  the  water's  surface  : 

"  I  am  the  face  of  Japonel, 
The  beauty  and  grace  of  Japonel ; 
Here  under  a  spell,  Japonel, 
I  dwell,  Japonel." 

All  day  Japonel  cried  so,  and  was  so  answered. 
Now  and  again,  green  weeds  would  come  skimming 
to  the  surface,  and  seem  to  listen  to  her  reproach, 
and  then  once  more  sink  down  to  their  bed  in  the 

99 


pond's  depths,  and  lie  almost  still,  waving  long  slimy 
fingers  through  the  mud. 

The  next  day  Japonel  came  again,  and  cried  as 
before  : 

"  Ah  !   sweet  face  of  Japonel. 
Beauty  and  grace  of  Japonel, 
Image  and  eyes  of  Japonel, 
'  Come  back  ! '  cries  Japonel." 

And  her  shadow  in  the  water  made  answer  : 

"  I  am  the  face  of  Japonel, 
The  beauty  and  grace  of  Japonel ; 
Here  under  a  spell,  Japonel, 
I  dwell,  Japonel." 

Now  as  she  sat  and  sorrowed  she  noticed  that 
whenever  a  bird  flew  over  the  pond  it  dropped 
something  out  of  its  mouth  into  the  water,  and  look- 
ing she  saw  millet-seeds  lying  everywhere  among  the 
weeds  of  its  surface ;  one  by  one  they  were  being 
sucked  under  by  the  pond-witch. 

Japonel  stayed  so  long  by  the  side  of  the  pond, 
that  on  her  way  home  it  had  fallen  quite  dark  while 
she  was  still  in  the  middle  of  the  wood.  Then  all 
at  once  she  heard  a  bird  with  loud  voice  cry  out  of 
the  darkness,  "  Look  up,  Japonel !  "  The  cry  was 
so  sudden  and  so  strange,  coming  at  that  place  and 
that  hour,  that  all  through  her  grief  she  heard  it, 
and  stopped  to  look  up.  Again  in  the  darkness  she 
heard  the  bird  cry,  "  Why  do  you  weep,  Japonel  ?  " 
Japonel  said,  "  Because  the  pond-witch  has  carried 
away  my  beautiful  reflection  in  the  water,  so  that  I 
can  see  my  own  face  no  more." 

100 


Then  the  bird  said,  "  Why  have  you  not  done  as 
the  birds  do  ?  She  is  greedy ;  so  they  throw  in 
millet- seeds,  and  then  she  does  not  steal  the  re- 
flection of  their  wings  when  they  pass  over."  And 
Japonel  answered,  "  Because  I  did  not  know  that, 
therefore  I  am  to-day  the  most  miserable  of  things 
living."  Then  said  the  bird,  "  Come  to-morrow, 
and  you  shall  be  the  happiest." 

So  the  next  day  Japonel  went  and  sat  by  the  pond 
in  the  wood,  waiting  to  be  made  the  happiest,  as  the 
bird  had  promised  her.  All  day  long  great  flocks 
of  birds  went  to  and  fro,  and  the  pond  became  cov- 
ered with  seeds.  Japonel  looked  ;  "  Why,  they  are 
poppy-seeds !  "  she  cried.  (Now  poppy-seeds  when 
they  are  eaten  make  people  sleep.)  Just  as  the  sun 
was  setting  all  the  birds  began  suddenly  to  cry  in 
chorus,  "  Look  down,  Japonel !  Japonel,  look  down  !" 
And  there,  on  the  pond's  surface,  lay  an  old  woman 
dressed  in  green,  fast  asleep,  with  all  the  folds  of  her 
dress  and  the  wrinkles  of  her  face  full  of  poppy-seeds. 

Then  Japonel  ran  fast  to  the  pond's  edge  and 
looked  down.  Slowly  from  the  depth  rose  the  pale 
beautiful  reflection  of  herself,  untying  itself  from  the 
thin  green  weeds,  and  drifting  towards  the  bank.  It 
looked  up  with  tremulous  greeting,  half  sadness,  half 
pleasure,  seeming  so  glad  after  that  long  separation 
to  return  to  its  sweet  mistress.  So  as  it  came  and 
settled  below  her  own  face  in  the  water,  Japonel 
stooped  down  over  it  and  kissed  it. 

Then  she  sprang  back  from  the  brink  and  ran 
home,  fast,  fast  in  the  fading  light.  And  there, 
when  she  looked  in  her  mirror,  was  once  more  the 
beautiful  face  she  loved,  a  little  blue  and  wan  from 

101 


its  long  imprisonment  under  water.  And  so  it 
ever  remained,  beautiful,  but  wan,  to  remind  her 
of  the  sorrow  that  had  come  upon  her  when,  loving 
this  too  well,  she  had  not  loved  enough  to  listen  to 
the  cry  of  the  birds :  "  Look  up,  Japonel !  "  and, 
"  Japonel,  look  down  !  " 


102 


GAMMELYN,   THE   DRESSMAKER 

THERE  was  once  upon  a  time  a  King's 
daughter  who  was  about  to  be  given  in 
marriage  to  a  great  prince ;  and  when  the 
wedding-day  was  yet  a  long  way  off,  the  whole  court 
began  to  concern  itself  as  to  how  the  bride  was  to  be 
dressed.  What  she  should  wear,  and  how  she  should 
wear  it,  was  the  question  debated  by  the  King  and 
his  Court  day  and  night,  almost  without  inter- 
ruption. Whatever  it  was  to  be,  it  must  be  splendid, 
without  peer.  Must  it  be  silk,  or  velvet,  or  satin ; 
should  it  be  enriched  with  brocade,  or  with  gems,  or 
sewn  thick  with  pearls  ? 

But  when  they  came  to  ask  the  Princess,  she  said, 
"  I  will  have  only  a  dress  of  beaten  gold,  light 
as  gossamer,  thin  as  bee's-wing,  soft  as  swan's- 
down." 

Then  the  King,  calling  his  chief  goldsmith,  told 
him  to  make  for  the  Princess  the  dress  of  beaten  gold. 
But  the  goldsmith  knew  no  way  how  such  a  dress 
was  to  be  made,  and  his  answer  to  the  King  was, 
"  Sire,  the  thing  is  not  to  be  done." 

Then  the  King  grew  very  angry,  for  he  said, 
"  What  a  Princess  can  find  it  in  her  head  to  wish, 
some  man  must  find  it  in  his  wits  to  accomplish." 
So  he  put  the  chief  goldsmith  in  prison  to  think 
about  it,  and  summoning  all  the  goldsmiths  in  the 
kingdom,  told  them  of  the  Princess's  wish,  that  a 
dress  should  be  made  for  her  of  beaten  gold.  But 
every  one  of  the  goldsmiths  went  down  on  his  knees 

103 


to  the  King,  saying,  "  Sire,  the  thing  is  not  to  be 
done."  Thereupon  the  King  clapped  them  all  into 
prison,  promising  to  cut  off  all  their  heads  if  in  three 
weeks'  time  they  had  not  put  them  together  to 
some  purpose  and  devised  a  plan  for  making  such  a 
dress  as  the  Princess  desired. 

Now  just  then  Gammelyn  was  passing  through 
the  country,  and  when  he  heard  of  all  this,  he  felt 
very  sorry  for  the  goldsmiths,  who  had  done  nothing 
wrong,  but  had  told  honest  truth  about  themselves 
to  the  King.  So  he  set  his  bright  wits  to  work,  and 
at  last  said,  "  I  think  I  can  save  the  goldsmiths  their 
heads,  for  I  have  found  a  way  of  making  such  a  dress 
as  this  fine  Princess  desires." 

Then  he  went  to  the  King  and  said,  "  I  have  a  way 
for  making  a  dress  of  beaten  gold." 

"  But,"  said  the  King,  "  have  a  care,  for  if  you 
fail  I  shall  assuredly  cut  off  your  head." 

All  the  same  Gammelyn  took  that  risk  willingly 
and  set  to  work.  And  first  he  asked  that  the 
Princess  would  tell  him  what  style  of  dress  it  should 
be ;  and  the  Princess  said,  "  Beaten  gold,  light  as 
gossamer,  thin  as  bee's-wing,  soft  as  swan's-down, 
and  it  must  be  made  thus."  So  she  showed  him  of 
what  fashion  sleeve,  and  bodice,  and  train  should 
be.  Then  Gammelyn  caused  to  be  made  (for  he  had 
a  palace  full  of  workers  put  under  him)  a  most  lovely 
dress,  in  the  fashion  the  Princess  had  named,  of 
white  cambric  closely  woven ;  and  the  Princess  came 
wondering  at  him,  saying  that  it  was  to  be  only  of 
beaten  gold. 

'  You  wait  a  while  !  "  said  Gammelyn,  for  he  had 
no  liking  for  the  Princess.  Then  he  asked  the  King 

104 


for  gold  out  of  his  treasury  ;  but  the  King  supplied 
him  instead  with  gold  from  the  stores  of  the  im- 
prisoned goldsmiths.  So  he  put  it  in  a  sack,  and 
carried  it  to  a  mill,  and  said  to  the  miller,"  Grind 
me  this  sack  full  of  gold  into  flour."  At  first  the 
miller  stared  at  him  for  a  madman,  but  when  he 
saw  the  letter  in  Gammelyn's  hands  which  the  King 
had  written,  and  which  said,  "  I'll  cut  off  your  head 
if  you  don't !  "  then  he  set  to  with  a  will,  and  ground 
the  gold  into  fine  golden  flour.  So  Gammelyn 
shouldered  his  sack  and  jogged  back  to  the  palace. 
The  next  thing  he  did  was  to  summon  all  the  gold- 
beaters in  the  kingdom,  which  he  did  easily  enough 
with  the  King's  letter;  for  directly  they  saw  the 
words  "  I'll  cut  off  your  head  if  you  don't !  "  and  the 
King's  signature  beneath,  they  came  running  as  fast 
as  their  legs  could  carry  them,  till  all  the  streets  which 
led  up  to  the  palace  were  full  of  them. 

Then  Gammelyn  chose  a  hundred  of  the  strongest, 
and  took  them  into  the  chamber  where  the  wedding- 
dress  was  in  making.  And  the  dress  he  took  and 
spread  out  on  iron  tables,  and,  sprinkling  the  golden 
flour  all  over  it,  set  the  men  to  beat  day  and  night 
for  a  whole  week.  And  at  the  end  of  the  week  there 
was  a  splendid  dress,  that  looked  as  if  it  were  of  pure 
gold  only.  But  the  Princess  said,  "  My  dress  must 
be  all  gold,  and  no  part  cambric — this  will  not  do." 
"  You  wait !  "  said  Gammelyn,  "  it  is  not  finished 
yet." 

Then  he  made  a  fire  of  sweet  spices  and  sandal- 
wood,  jasmine,  and  mignonette;  and  into  the  fire 
he  put  the  wonderful  dress. 

The  Princess  screamed  with  grief  and  rage ;    for 

105 


she  was  in  love  with  the  dress,  though  she  was  so 
nice  in  holding  him  to  the  conditions  of  the  decree. 
But  Gammelyn  persevered,  and  what  happened  was 
this  :  the  fire  burnt  away  all  the  threads  of  the 
cambric,  but  was  not  hot  enough  to  melt  the  gold  ; 
and  when  all  the  cambric  was  burnt,  then  he  drew 
out  of  the  fire  a  dress  of  beaten  gold,  light  as 
gossamer,  thin  as  bee's-wing,  soft  as  swan's-down, 
and  fragrant  as  a  wind  when  it  blows  through  a 
Sultan's  garden. 

So  all  the  goldsmiths  were  set  free  from  prison  ; 
and  the  King  appointed  Gammelyn  his  chief  gold- 
smith. 

But  when  the  Princess  saw  the  dress,  she  was 
so  beside  herself  with  pride  and  pleasure  that  she 
must  have  also  a  dress  made  of  pearl,  light  as  gos- 
samer, thin  as  bee's-wing,  soft  as  swan's-down.  And 
the  King  sent  for  all  his  jewellers,  and  told  them 
that  such  a  dress  was  to  be  made ;  but  they  all 
went  down  on  their  bended  knees,  crying  with 
one  voice,  "  Sire,  the  thing  is  not  to  be  done." 
And  all  the  good  they  got  for  that  was  that  they 
were  clapped  into  prison  till  a  way  for  doing  it 
should  be  found. 

Then  the  King  said  to  Gammelyn,  "  Since  my 
jewellers  cannot  make  this  dress,  you  must  do  it !  " 
But  Gammelyn  said,  "  Sire,  that  is  not  in  our  bar- 
gain." And  the  only  answer  the  King  had  to  that 
was,  "  I'll  cut  off  your  head  if  you  don't." 

Gammelyn  sighed  like  a  sea-shell ;  but  deter- 
mining to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  business,  he  set 
to  work. 

And,  as  before,  he  made  a  dress  in  the  fashion 

106 


the  Princess  chose,  of  the  finest  weaving.  He 
made  each  part  separate ;  the  two  sleeves  separate, 
the  body  separate,  the  skirt  and  train  separate. 
Then,  at  his  desire,  the  King  commanded  that  all 
the  oysters  which  were  dredged  out  of  the  sea 
should  be  brought  to  him.  Out  of  these  he  selected 
the  five  finest  oysters  of  all ;  each  one  was  the  size 
of  a  tea-tray.  Then  he  put  them  into  a  large 
tank  and  inside  each  shell  he  put  one  part  of  the 
dress — the  weaving  of  which  was  so  fine  that  there 
was  plenty  of  room  for  it,  as  well  as  for  the  oysters. 
And  in  course  of  time  he  drew  out  from  each  shell 
— from  one  the  body,  from  one  the  skirt,  from  one 
the  train,  from  one  a  sleeve,  from  another  the 
other  sleeve.  Next  he  fastened  each  part  together 
with  thread,  and  put  the  whole  dress  back  into 
the  tank ;  and  into  the  mouth  of  one  oyster  he 
put  the  joinery  of  body  and  skirt,  and  into  the 
mouth  of  another  the  joinery  of  skirt  and  train, 
and  into  the  mouth  of  two  others  the  joinery  of 
the  two  sleeves,  and  the  fifth  oyster  he  ate.  So 
the  oysters  did  their  work,  laying  their  soft  inlay 
over  the  gown,  just  as  they  laid  it  over  the  inside 
of  their  shells ;  and  after  a  time  Gammelyn  drew 
forth  a  dress  bright  and  gleaming,  and  pure  mother- 
o'-pearl.  But  "  No,"  said  the  Princess,  "  it  must 
be  all  pure  pearl,  with  nothing  of  thread  in  it." 
But,  "  Wait  a  while !  "  said  Gammelyn,  "  I  have 
not  finished  yet." 

So  by  a  decree  of  the  King  he  caused  to  be 
gathered  together  all  the  moths  in  the  kingdom — 
millions  of  moths ;  and  he  put  them  all  into  a  bare 
iron  room  along  with  the  dress,  and  ^sealed  the 

107 


doors  and  windows  with  red  sealing-wax.  The 
Princess  wept  and  sighed  for  the  dress :  "  It  will 
be  all  eaten,"  said  she.  "  Then  I  shall  cut  off  his 
head,"  said  the  King.  But  for  all  that,  Gammelyn 
persevered. 

And  when  he  opened  the  door  they  found  that 
every  thread  had  been  eaten  away  by  the  moths, 
while  the  mother-o'-pearl  had  been  left  uninjured. 
So  the  dress  was  a  perfect  pearl,  light  as  gossamer, 
thin  as  bee's-wing,  soft  as  swan's-down  ;  and  the 
King  made  Gammelyn  his  chief  jeweller,  and  set 
all  the  other  jewellers  free. 

Then  the  Princess  was  so  delighted  that  she 
wished  to  have  one  more  dress  also,  made  all  of 
butterflies'  wings.  "  That  were  easily  done,"  said 
Gammelyn,  "  but  it  were  cruel  to  ask  for  such  a 
dress  to  be  made." 

Nevertheless  the  Princess  would  have  it  so,  and 
he  should  make  it.  "  I'll  cut  off  your  head  if  you 
don't,"  said  the  King. 

Gammelyn  bumbled  like  a  bee ;  but  all  he  said 
was,  "  Many  million  butterflies  will  be  wanted  for 
such  a  work  :  you  must  let  me  have  again  the 
two  dresses — the  pearl,  and  the  gold — for  butter- 
flies love  bright  colours  that  gleam  and  shine ;  and 
with  these  alone  can  I  gather  them  all  to  one 
place." 

So  the  Princess  gave  him  the  two  dresses ;  and 
he  went  to  the  highest  part  of  the  palace,  out  on 
to  the  battlements  of  the  great  tower.  There  he 
faced  towards  the  west,  where  lay  a  new  moon, 
louting  towards  the  setting  sun ;  and  he  laid  the 
two  rpbes,  one  on  either  arm,  spreading  them 

108 


abroad,  till  they  looked  like  two  wings — a  gold  and 
a  pearl.  And  a  beam  of  the  sun  came  and  kissed 
the  gold  wing,  and  a  pale  quivering  thread  of 
moonlight  touched  the  pearl  wing  ;  and  Gammelyn 
sang  : 

"  Light  of  the  moon, 
Light  of  the  sun, 
Pearl  of  the  sky, 
Gold  from  on  high, 
Hearken  to  me  ! 


"  Light  of  the  moon, 
Pearl  of  the  sea, 
Gold  of  the  land 
Here  in  my  hand, 
I  render  to  thee. 


"  Butterflies  come ! 
Carry  us  home, 
Gold  of  the  gnome, 
Pearl  of  the  sea." 


And  as  he  sang,  out  of  the  east  came  a  soft  mutter- 
ing of  wings  and  a  deep  moving  mass  like  a  bright 
storm-cloud.  And  out  of  the  sun  ran  a  long  gold 
finger,  and  out  of  the  moon  a  pale  shivering  finger 
of  pearl,  and  touching  the  gold  and  the  pearl,  these 
became  verily  wings  and  not  millinery.  Then 
before  the  Princess  could  scream  more  than  once, 
or  the  King  say  anything  about  cutting  off  heads, 
the  bright  cloud  in  the  east  became  a  myriad  myriad 
of  butterflies.  And  drawn  by  the  falling  flashing 
sun,  and  by  the  faint  falling  moon,  and  fanned  by 
the  million  wings  of  his  fellow-creatures,  Gammelyn 

ill 


sprang  out  from  the  palace  wall  on  the  crest  of  the 
butterfly-wind,  and  new  away  brighter  and  farther 
each  moment ;  and  followed  by  his  myriad  train 
of  butterflies,  he  passed  out  of  sight,  and  in  that 
country  was  never  heard  of  again. 


112 


THE    FEEDING   OF   THE    EMIGRANTS 

OVER  the  sea  went  the  birds,  flying  south- 
ward to  their  other  home  where  the  sun 
was.  The  rustle  of  their  wings,  high  over- 
head, could  be  heard  down  on  the  water  ;  and  their 
soft,  shrill  twitterings,  and  the  thirsty  nibbling  of 
their  beaks ;  for  the  seas  were  hushed,  and  the 
winds  hung  away  in  cloud-land. 

Far  away  from  any  shore,  and  beginning  to  be 
weary,  their  eyes  caught  sight  of  a  white  form 
resting  between  sky  and  sea.  Nearer  they  came, 
till  it  seemed  to  be  a  great  white  bird,  brood- 
ing on  the  calmed  water ;  and  its  wings  were 
stretched  high  and  wide,  yet  it  stirred  not.  And 
the  wings  had  in  themselves  no  motion,  but 
stood  rigidly  poised  over  their  own  reflection  in 
the  water. 

Then  the  birds  came  curiously,  dropping  from 
their  straight  course,  to  wonder  at  the  white  wings 
that  went  not  on.  And  they  came  and  settled 
about  this  great,  bird-like  thing,  so  still  and  so 
grand. 

On  to  the  deck  crept  a  small  child,  for  the 
noise  of  the  birds  had  come  down  to  him  in  the 
hold.  "  There  is  nobody  at  home  but  me,"  he 
said ;  for  he  thought  the  birds  must  have  come 
to  call,  and  he  wished  to  be  polite.  "  They  are 
all  gone  but  me,"  he  went  on ;  "all  gone.  I  am 
left  alone." 

The  birds,  none  of  them  understood  him ;    but 

H  113 


they  put  their  heads  on  one  side  and  looked 
down  on  him  in  a  friendly  way,  seeming  to 
consider. 

He  ran  down  below  and  fetched  up  a  pannikin 
of  water  and  some  biscuit.  He  set  the  water 
down,  and  breaking  the  biscuit  sprinkled  it  over 
the  white  deck.  Then  he  clapped  his  hands  to 
see  them  all  flutter  and  crowd  round  him,  dipping 
their  bright  heads  to  the  food  and  drink  he  gave 
them. 

They  might  not  stay  long,  for  the  water-logged 
ship  could  not  help  them  on  the  way  they  wished 
to  go ;  and  by  sunset  they  must  touch  land  again. 
Away  they  went,  on  a  sudden,  the  whole  crew  of 
them,  and  the  sound  of  their  voices  became  faint 
in  the  bright  sea-air. 

"  I  am  left  alone  !  "   said  the  child. 

Many  days  ago,  while  he  was  asleep  in  a  snug 
corner  he  had  found  for  himself,  the  captain  and 
crew  had  taken  to  the  boats,  leaving  the  great  ship 
to  its  fate.  And  forgetting  him  because  he  was  so 
small,  or  thinking  that  he  was  safe  in  some  one  of 
the  other  boats,  the  rough  sailors  had  gone  off 
without  him,  and  he  was  left  alone.  So  for  a  whole 
week  he  had  stayed  with  the  ship,  like  a  whisper 
of  its  vanished  life  amid  the  blues  of  a  deep  calm. 
And  the  birds  came  to  the  ship  only  to  desert  it 
again  quickly,  because  it  stood  so  still  upon  the 
sea. 

But  that  night  the  mermen  came  round  the 
vessel's  side,  and  sang ;  and  the  wind  rose  to  their 
singing,  and  the  sea  grew  rough.  Yet  the  child 
slept  with  his  head  in  dreams.  The  dreams  came 

114 


from  the  mermen's  songs,  and  he  held  his  breath, 
and  his  heart  stayed  burdened  by  the  deep  sweet- 
ness of  what  he  saw. 

Dark  and  strange  and  cold  the  sea-valleys  opened 
before  him ;  blue  sea-beasts  ranged  there,  guarded 
by  strong-finned  shepherds,  and  fishes  like  birds 
darted  to  and  fro,  but  made  no  sound.  And  that 
was  what  burdened  his  heart, — that  for  all  the 
beauty  he  saw,  there  was  no  sound,  no  song  of  a 
single  bird  to  comfort  him. 

The  mermen  reached  out  their  blue  arms  to 
him,  and  sang ;  on  the  top  of  the  waves  they  sang, 
striving  to  make  him  forget  the  silence  of  the  land 
below.  They  offered  him  the  sea-life  :  why  should 
he  be  drowned  and  die  ? 

And  now  over  him  in  the  dark  night  the  great 
wings  crashed,  and  beat  abroad  in  the  wind,  and 
the  ship  made  great  way.  And  the  mermen  swam 
fast  to  be  with  her,  and  ceased  from  their  own 
song,  for  the  wind  overhead  sang  loud  in  the  rigging 
and  the  sails.  But  the  child  lifted  his  head 
in  his  sleep  and  smiled,  for  his  soul  was  eased  of 
the  mermen's  song,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
instead  he  heard  birds  singing  in  a  far-off  land, 
singing  of  a  child  whose  loving  hand  had  fed 
them,  faint  and  weary,  in  their  way  over  the  wide 
ocean. 

In  that  far  southern  land  the  dawn  had  be- 
gun, and  the  birds,  waking  one  by  one,  were 
singing  their  story  of  him  to  the  soft-breathing 
tamarisk  boughs.  And  none  of  them  knew  how 
they  had  been  sent  as  a  salvage  crew  to  save  the 
child's  spirit  from  the  spell  of  the  sea-dream,  and 

"7 


to    carry  it    safely  back   to   the   land   that   loved 
him. 

But  with  the  child's  body  the  white  wings  had 
flown  down  into  the  wave-buried  valleys,  and  to  a 
cleft  of  the  sea-hills  to  rest. 


118 


WHITE  BIRCH 

• 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  lived  in  a  wood  a 
brother  and  sister  who  had  been  forgotten 
by  all  the  world.  But  this  thing  did  not 
greatly  grieve  their  hearts,  because  they  themselves 
were  all  the  world  to  each  other  :  meeting  or  part- 
ing, they  never  forgot  that.  Nobody  remained  to 
tell  them  who  they  were ;  but  she  was  "  Little 
Sister,"  and  he  was  "  Fair  Brother,"  and  those 
were  the  only  names  they  ever  went  by. 

In  their  little  wattled  hut  they  would  have  been 
perfectly  happy  but  for  one  thing  which  now  and 
then  they  remembered  and  grieved  over.  Fair 
Brother  was  lame — not  a  foot  could  he  put  to  the 
ground,  nor  take  one  step  into  the  outside  world. 
But  he  lay  quiet  on  his  bed  of  leaves,  while  Little 
Sister  went  out  and  in,  bringing  him  food  and 
drink,  and  the  scent  of  flowers,  and  tales  of  the  joy 
of  earth  and  of  the  songs  of  birds. 

One  day  she  brought  him  a  litter  of  withered 
birch-leaves  to  soften  his  bed  and  make  it  warmer 
for  the  approaching  season  of  cold ;  and  all  the 
winter  he  lay  on  it,  and  sighed.  Little  Sister  had 
never  seen  him  so  sad  before. 

In  the  spring,  when  the  songs  of  the  pairing 
birds  began,  his  sorrow  only  grew  greater.  "  Let 
me  go  out,  let  me  go  out,"  he  cried  ;  "  only  a  little 
way  into  the  bright  world  before  I  die !  "  She 
kissed  his  feet,  and  took  him  up  in  her  arms  and 
carried  him.  But  she  could  only  go  a  very  little 

119 


way  with  her  burden  ;   presently  she  had  to  return 
and  lay  him  down  again  on  his  bed  of  leaves. 

"  Have  I  seen  all  the  bright  world  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Is  it  such  a  little  place  ?  " 

To  hide  her  sorrow  from  him,  Little  Sister  ran 
out  into  the  woods,  and  as  she  went,  wondering 
how  to  comfort  his  grief,  she  could  not  help  weep- 
ing. 

All  at  once  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  she  saw  the 
figure  of  a  woman  seated.  It  was  strange,  for  she 
had  never  before  seen  anybody  else  in  the  wood 
but  themselves.  The  woman  said  to  her,  "  Why 
is  it  that  you  weep  so  ?  " 

"  The  heart  of  Fair  Brother  is  breaking,"  replied 
Little  Sister.  "  It  is  because  of  that  that  I  am 
weeping." 

"  Why  is  his  heart  breaking  ?  "  inquired  the 
other. 

"  I  do  not  know."  answered  Little  Sister.  "  Ever 
since  last  autumn  fell  it  has  been  so.  Always,  be- 
fore, he  has  been  happy ;  he  has  no  reason  not  to 
be,  only  he  is  lame." 

She  had  come  close  to  the  seated  figure ;  and 
looking,  she  saw  a  woman  with  a  very  white  skin, 
in  a  robe  and  hood  of  deep  grey.  Grey  eyes  looked 
back  at  her  with  just  a  soft  touch  in  them  of  the 
green  that  comes  with  the  young  leaves  of  spring. 

"  You  are  beautiful,"  said  Little  Sister,  drawing 
in  her  breath. 

'  Yes,  I  am  beautiful,"  answered  the  other. 
"  Why  is  Fair  Brother  lame  ?  Has  he  no  feet  ?  ' 

"  Oh,  beautiful  feet !  "  said  Little  Sister.  "  But 
they  are  like  still  water  ;  they  cannot  run." 

120 


"  If  you  want  him  to  run,"  said  the  other,  "  I 
can  tell  you  what  to  do.  What  will  you  give  me 
in  exchange  ?  " 

"  Whatever  you  like  to  ask,"  answered  Little 
Sister ;  "  but  I  am  poor." 

"  You  have  beautiful  hair,"  said  the  woman  ;- 
"  will  you  let  that  go  ?  " 

Little  Sister  stooped  down  her  head,  and  let  the 
other  cut  off  her  hair.  The  wind  went  out  of  it 
with  a  sigh  as  it  fell  into  the  grey  woman's  lap. 
She  hid  it  away  under  her  robe,  and  said,  "  Listen, 
Little  Sister,  and  I  will  tell  you !  To-night  is  the 
new  moon.  If  you  can  hold  your  tongue  till  the 
moon  is  full,  the  feet  of  Fair  Brother  shall  run  like 
a  stream  from  the  hills,  dancing  from  rock  to 
rock." 

"  Only  tell  me  what  I  must  do !  "  said  Little 
Sister. 

"  You  see  this  birch-tree,  with  its  silver  skin  ?  " 
said  the  woman.  "  Cut  off  two  strips  of  it  and 
weave  them  into  shoes  for  Fair  Brother.  And 
when  they  are  finished  by  the  full  moon,  if  you 
have  not  spoken,  you  have  but  to  put  them  upon 
Fair  Brother's  feet,  and  they  will  outrun  yours." 

So  Little  Sister,  as  the  other  had  told  her,  cut 
oil  two  strips  from  the  bark  of  the  birch-tree,  and 
ran  home  as  fast  as  she  could  to  tell  her  brother  of 
the  happiness  which,  with  only  a  little  waiting,  was 
in  store  for  them. 

But  as  she  came  near  home,  over  the  low  roof 
she  saw  the  new  moon  hanging  like  a  white  feather 
in  the  air ;  and,  closing  her  lips,  she  went  in  and 
kissed  Fair  Brother  silently. 

121 


He  said,  "  Little  Sister,  loose  out  your  hair  over 
me,  and  let  me  feel  the  sweet  airs ;  and  tell  me 
how  the  earth  sounds,  for  my  heart  is  sick  with 
sorrow  and  longing."  She  took  his  hand  and  laid 
it  upon  her  heart  that  he  might  feel  its  happy 
beating,  but  said  no  word.  Then  she  sat  down  at 
his  feet  and  began  to  work  at  the  shoes.  All  the 
birch-bark  she  cut  into  long  strips  fit  for  weaving, 
doing  everything  as  the  grey  woman  had  told  her. 

Fair  Brother  fretted  at  her  silence,  and  cried, 
calling  her  cruel ;  but  she  only  kissed  his  feet,  and 
went  on  working  the  faster.  And  the  white  birch 
shoes  grew  under  her  hands ;  and  every  night  she 
watched  and  saw  the  moon  growing  round. 

Fair  Brother  said,  "  Little  Sister,  what  have  you 
done  with  your  hair  in  which  you  used  to  fetch 
home  the  wind  ?  And  why  do  you  never  go  and 
bring  me  flowers  or  sing  me  the  song  of  the  birds  ? 
And  Little  Sister  looked  up  and  nodded,  but  never 
answered  or  moved  from  her  task,  for  her  fingers 
were  slow,  and  the  moon  was  quick  in  its  growing. 

One  night  Fair  Brother  was  lying  asleep,  and  his 
head  was  filled  with  dreams  of  the  outer  world 
into  which  he  longed  to  go.  The  full  moon  looked 
in  through  the  open  door,  and  Little  Sister  laughed 
in  her  heart  as  she  slipped  the  birch  shoes  on  to  his 
feet.  "  Now  run,  dear  feet,"  she  whispered  ;  "  but 
do  not  outrun  mine." 

Up  in  his  sleep  leapt  Fair  Brother,  for  the  dream 
of  the  white  birch  had  hold  of  him.  A  lady  with 
a  dark  hood  and  grey  eyes  full  of  the  laughter  of 
leaves  beckoned  him.  Out  he  ran  into  the  moon- 
light, and  Little  Sister  laughed  as  she  ran  with  him. 

122 


In  a  little  while  she  called,  "  Do  not  outrun 
me,  Fair  Brother !  "  But  he  seemed  not  to  hear 
her,  for  not  a  bit  did  he  slacken  the  speed  of  his 
running. 

Presently  she  cried  again,  "  Rest  with  me  a 
while,  Fair  Brother  !  Do  not  outrun  me  !  "  But 
Fair  Brother's  feet  were  fleet  after  their  long  idle- 
ness, and  they  only  ran  the  faster.  "  Ah,  ah  !  " 
she  cried,  all  out  of  breath.  "  Come  back  to  me 
when  you  have  done  running,  Fair  Brother."  And 
as  he  disappeared  among  the  trees,  she  cried  after 
him,  "  How  will  you  know  the  way,  since  you  were 
never  here  before  ?  Do  not  get  lost  in  the  wood, 
Fair  Brother !  " 

She  lay  on  the  ground  and  listened,  and  could 
hear  the  white  birch  shoes  carrying  him  away  till 
all  sound  of  them  died. 

When,  next  morning,  he  had  not  returned,  she 
searched  all  day  through  the  wood,  calling  his 
name. 

"  Where  are  you,  Fair  Brother  ?  Where  have 
you  lost  yourself  ?  "  she  cried,  but  no  voice  an- 
swered her. 

For  a  while  she  comforted  her  heart,  saying, 
"  He  has  not  run  all  these  years — no  wonder  he  is 
still  running.  When  he  is  tired  he  will  return." 

But  days  and  weeks  went  by,  and  Fair  Brother 
never  came  back  to  her.  Every  day  she  wandered 
searching  for  him,  or  sat  at  the  door  of  the  little 
wattled  hut  and  cried. 

One  day  she  cried  so  much  that  the  ground 
became  quite  wet  with  her  tears.  That  night  was 
the  night  of  the  full  moon,  but  weary  with  grief 

123 


she  lay  down  and  slept  soundly,  though  outside  the 
woods  were  bright. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  she  started  up,  for 
she  thought  she  heard  somebody  go  by ;  and, 
surely,  feet  were  running  away  in  the  distance. 
And  when  she  looked  out,  there  across  the  doorway 
was  the  print  of  the  birch  shoes  on  the  ground  she 
had  made  wet  with  her  tears. 

"  Alas,  alas !  "  cried  Little  Sister.  "  What  have 
I  done  that  he  comes  to  the  very  door  of  our  home 
and  passes  by,  though  the  moon  shines  in  and 
shows  it  him  ?  J! 

After  that  she  searched  everywhere  through  the 
forest  to  discover  the  print  of  the  birch  shoes  upon 
the  ground.  Here  and  there  after  rain  she  thought 
she  could  see  traces,  but  never  was  she  able  to  track 
them  far. 

Once  more  came  the  night  of  the  full  moon,  and 
once  more  in  the  middle  of  the  night  Little  Sister 
started  up  and  heard  feet  running  away  in  the 
distance.  She  called,  but  no  answer  came  back 
to  her. 

So  on  the  third  full  moon  she  waited,  sitting  in 
the  door  of  the  hut,  and  would  not  sleep. 

"  If  he  has  been  twice,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  he 
will  come  again,  and  I  shall  see  him.  Ah,  Fair 
Brother,  Fair  Brother,  I  have  given  you  feet ;  why 
have  you  so  used  me  ? >: 

Presently  she  heard  a  sound  of  footsteps,  and 
there  came  Fair  Brother  running  towards  her. 
She  saw  his  face  pale  and  ghostlike,  yet  he  never 
looked  at  her,  but  ran  past  and  on  without 
stopping. 

124 


"  Fair  Brother,  Fair  Brother,  wait  for  me ;  do 
not  outrun  me  !  "  cried  Little  Sister  ;  and  was  up 
in  haste  to  be  after  him. 

He  ran  fast,  and  would  not  stop  ;  but  she  ran 
fast  too,  for  her  love  would  not  let  him  go.  Once 
she  nearly  had  him  by  the  hair,  and  once  she  caught 
him  by  the  cloak ;  but  in  her  hand  it  shredded 
and  crumbled  like  a  dry  leaf ;  and  still,  though 
there  was  no  breath  left  in  her,  she  ran  on. 

And  now  she  began  to  wonder,  for  Fair  Brother 
was  running  the  way  that  she  knew  well — towards 
the  tree  from  which  she  had  cut  the  two  strips  of 
bark.  Her  feet  were  failing  her ;  she  knew  that 
she  could  run  no  more.  Just  as  they  came  to- 
gether in  sight  of  the  birch-tree  Little  Sister 
stumbled  and  fell. 

She  saw  Fair  Brother  run  on  and  strike  with  his 
hands  and  feet  against  the  tree,  and  cry,  "  Oh, 
White  Birch,  White  Birch,  lift  the  latch  up,  or  she 
will  catch  me !  "  And  at  once  the  tree  opened  its 
rind,  and  Fair  Brother  ran  in. 

"  So,"  said  Little  Sister,  "  you  are  there,  are 
you,  Brother  ?  I  know,  then,  what  I  have  done 
to  you." 

She  went  and  laid  her  ear  to  the  tree,  and  inside 
she  could  hear  Fair  Brother  sobbing  and  crying. 
It  sounded  to  her  as  if  White  Birch  were  beating 
him. 

"  Well,  well,  Fair  Brother,  she  shall  not  beat 
you  for  long  !  "  said  Little  Sister. 

She  went  home  and  waited  till  the  next  full 
moon  had  come.  Then,  as  soon  as  it  was  dark, 
she  went  along  through  the  wood  until  she  came 

125 


to  the  place,  and  there  she  crept  close  to  the  white 
birch-tree  and  waited. 

Presently  she  heard  Fair  Brother's  voice  come 
faintly  out  of  the  heart  of  the  tree :  "  White 
Birch,  it  is  the  full  moon  and  the  hour  in  which 
Little  Sister  gave  life  to  my  feet.  For  one  hour 
give  me  leave  to  go,  that  I  may  run  home  and  look 
at  her  while  she  sleeps.  I  will  not  stop  or  speak, 
and  I  promise  you  that  I  will  return." 

Then  she  heard  the  voice  of  White  Birch  answer 
grudgingly  :  "  It  is  her  hour  and  I  cannot  hold  you, 
therefore  you  may  go.  Only  when  you  come  again 
I  will  beat  you." 

Then  the  tree  opened  a  little  way,  and  Fair 
Brother  ran  out.  He  ran  so  quickly  in  his  eager 
haste  that  Little  Sister  had  not  time  to  catch  him, 
and  she  did  not  dare  to  call  aloud.  "  I  must  make 
sure,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  before  he  comes  back. 
To-night  White  Birch  will  have  to  let  him  go." 

So  she  gathered  as  many  dry  pieces  of  wood  as  she 
could  find,  and  made  them  into  a  pile  near  at  hand  ; 
and  setting  them  alight,  she  soon  had  a  brisk  fire 
burning. 

Before  long  she  heard  the  sound  of  feet  in  the 
brushwood,  and  there  came  Fair  Brother,  running 
as  hard  as  he  could  go,  with  the  breath  sobbing  in 
and  out  of  his  body. 

Little  Sister  sprang  out  to  meet  him,  but  as  soon 
as  he  saw  her  he  beat  with  his  hands  and  feet  against 
the  tree,  crying,  "  White  Birch,  White  Birch,  lift 
the  latch  up,  or  she  will  catch  me !  " 

But  before  the  tree  could  open  Little  Sister  had 
caught  hold  of  the  birch  shoes,  and  pulled  them  off 

126 


his  feet,  and  running  towards  the  fire  she  thrust  them 
into  the  red  heart  of  the  embers. 

The  white  birch  shivered  from  head  to  foot,  and 
broke  into  lamentable  shrieks.  The  witch  thrust 
her  head  out  of  the  tree,  crying,  "  Don't,  don't ! 
You  are  burning  my  skin  !  Oh,  cruel !  how  you  are 
burning  me !  " 

"  I  have  not  burned  you  enough  yet,"  cried  Little 
Sister ;  and  raking  the  burning  sticks  and  faggots 
over  the  ground,  she  heaped  them  round  the  foot  of 
the  white  birch-tree,  whipping  the  flames  to  make 
them  leap  high. 

The  witch  drew  in  her  head,  but  inside  she  could 
be  heard  screaming.  As  the  flames  licked  the  white 
bark  she  cried,  "  Oh,  my  skin  !  You  are  burning 
my  skin.  My  beautiful  white  skin  will  be  covered 
with  nothing  but  blisters.  Do  you  know  that  you 
are  ruining  my  complexion  ?  " 

But  Little  Sister  said,  "  If  I  make  you  ugly  you 
will  not  be  able  to  show  your  face  again  to  deceive 
the  innocent,  and  to  ruin  hearts  that  were  happy." 
So  she  piled  on  sticks  and  faggots  till  the  outside 
of  the  birch-tree  was  all  black  and  scarred  and 
covered  with  blisters,  the  marks  of  which  have  re- 
mained to  this  day.  And  inside,  the  witch  could  be 
heard  dancing  time  to  the  music  of  the  flames,  and 
crying  because  of  her  ruined  complexion. 

Then  Little  Sister  stooped  and  took  up  Fair 
Brother  in  her  arms.  "  You  cannot  walk  now," 
she  whispered,  "  I  have  taken  away  your  feet ;  so 
I  will  carry  you." 

He  was  so  starved  and  thin  that  he  was  not  very 
heavy,  and  all  the  long  way  home  Little  Sister  car- 

127 


ried  him  in  her  arms.  How  happy  they  were,  look- 
ing in  each  other's  eyes  by  the  clear  light  of  the 
moon'! 

"  Can  you  ever  be  happy  again  in  the  old  way  ?  " 
asked  Little  Sister.  "  Shall  you  not  want  to  run  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Fair  Brother ;  "  I  shall  never 
wish  to  run  again.  And  as  for  the  rest  " — he  stroked 
her  head  softly — "  why,  I  can  feel  that  your  hair  is 
growing — it  is  ever  so  long,  and  I  can  see  the  wind 
lifting  it.  White  Birch  has  no  hair  of  her  own,  but 
she  has  some  that  she  wears,  just  the  same  colour  as 
yours." 


128 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  ROSES 

NOT  far  from  a  great  town,  in  the  midst  of 
a  well-wooded  valley,  lived  a  rose-gardener 
and  his  wife.     All  round  the  old  home 
green  sleepy  hollows  lay  girdled  by  silver  streams, 
long  grasses  bent  softly  in  the  wind,  and  the  half 
fabulous  murmur  of  woods  filled  the  air. 

Up  in  their  rose-garden,  on  the  valley's  side 
facing  the  sun,  the  gardener  and  his  wife  lived  con- 
tentedly sharing  toil  and  ease.  They  had  been 
young,  they  were  not  yet  old  ;  and  though  they  had 
to  be  frugal  they  did  not  call  themselves  poor.  A 
strange  fortune  had  belonged  always  to  the  plot 
of  ground  over  which  they  laboured ;  whether 
because  the  soil  was  so  rich,  or  the  place  so 
sheltered  from  cold,  or  the  gardener  so  skilled  in 
the  craft,  which  had  come  down  in  his  family 
from  father  to  son,  could  not  be  known ;  but 
certainly  it  was  true  that  his  rose-trees  gave  forth 
better  bloom  and  bore  earlier  and  later  through 
the  season  than  any  others  that  were  to  be  found 
in  those  parts. 

The  good  couple  accepted  what  came  to  them, 
simply  and  gladly,  thanking  God.  Perhaps  it  was 
from  the  kindness  of  fortune,  or  perhaps  because  the 
sweet  perfume  of  the  roses  had  mixed  itself  in  their 
blood,  that  her  man  and  his  wife  were  so  sweet- 
tempered  and  gentle  in  their  ways.  The  colour  of 
the  rose  was  in  their  faces,  and  the  colour  of  the 
rose  was  in  their  hearts ;  to  her  man  she  was  the  most 

i  129 


beautiful  and  dearest  of  sweethearts,  to  his  wife  he 
was  the  best  and  kindest  of  lovers. 

Every  morning,  before  it  was  light,  her  man  and 
his  wife  would  go  into  the  garden  and  gather  all  the 
roses  that  were  ripe  for  sale  ;  then  with  full  baskets 
on  their  backs  they  would  set  out,  and  get  to  the 
market  just  as  the  level  sunbeams  from  the  east 
were  striking  all  the  vanes  and  spires  of  the  city  into 
gold.  There  they  would  dispose  of  their  flowers  to 
the  florists  and  salesmen  of  the  town,  and  after  that 
trudge  home  again  to  hoe,  and  dig,  and  weed,  and 
water,  and  prune,  and  plant  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 
No  man  ever  saw  them  the  one  without  the  other, 
and  the  thought  that  such  a  thing  might  some  day 
happen  was  the  only  fear  and  sorrow  of  their  lives. 

That  they  had  no  children  of  their  own  was 
scarcely  a  sorrow  to  them.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  said 
her  man  after  they  had  been  married  for  some  years, 
"  that  God  means  that  our  roses  are  to  be  our  chil- 
dren since  He  has  made  us  love  them  so  much. 
They  will  last  when  we  are  grown  grey,  and  will 
support  and  comfort  us  in  our  old  age." 

All  the  roses  they  had  were  red,  and  varied  little 
in  kind,  yet  her  man  and  his  wife  had  a  name  for 
each  of  them  ;  to  every  tree  they  had  given  a  name, 
until  it  almost  seemed  that  the  trees  knew,  and  tried 
to  answer  when  they  heard  the  voices  which  spoke 
to  them. 

"  Jane  Janet,  and  you  ought  to  blossom  more 
freely  at  your  age  !  "  his  wife  might  say  to  one  some 
evening  as  she  went  round  and  watered  the  flowers ; 
and  the  next  day,  when  the  two  came  to  their  dark 
morning's  gathering,  Jane  Janet  would  show  ten  or 

130 


twelve  great  blooms  under  the  light  of  the  lantern, 
every  one  of  them  the  birth  of  a  single  night. 

"  Mary  Maudlin,"  the  gardener  would  say,  as  he 
washed  the  blight  off  a  favourite  rose,  "  to  be  sure, 
you  are  very  beautiful,  but  did  I  not  love  you  so,  you 
were  more  trouble  than  all  your  sisters  put  together." 
And  then  all  at  once  great  dew-drops  would  come 
tumbling  down  out  of  Mary  Maudlin's  eyes  at  the 
tender  words  of  his  reproach.  So  day  by  day  the 
companionable  feet  of  the  happy  couple  moved  to 
and  fro,  always  intent  on  the  nurture  and  care  of 
their  children. 

In  their  garden  they  had  bees  too,  who  by  strange 
art,  unlike  other  bees,  drew  all  their  honey  from  the 
roses,  and  lived  in  a  cone-thatched  hive  close  to  the 
porch ;  and  that  honey  was  famous  through  all  the 
country-side,  for  its  flavour  was  like  no  other  honey 
made  in  the  world. 

Sometimes  his  wife  said  to  her  man,  "  I  think  our 
garden  is  looked  after  for  us  by  some  good  Spirit ; 
perhaps  it  is  the  Saints  after  whom  we  have  named 
our  rose-children." 

Her  man  made  answer,  "  It  is  rich  in  years,  which, 
like  an  old  wine,  have  made  it  gain  in  flavour  ;  it  has 
been  with  us  from  father  to  son  for  three  hundred 
years,  and  that  is  a  great  while." 

"  A  full  fairy's  lifetime  !  "  said  his  wife.  "  Tis 
a  pity  we  shall  not  hand  it  on,  being  childless." 

"  When  we  two  die,"  said  her  man,  "  the  roses 
will  make  us  a  grave  and  watch  over  us."  As  he 
spoke  a  whole  shower  of  petals  fell  from  the  trees. 

"  Did  no  one  pass,  just  then  ?  "  said  his  wife. 

Now  one  morning,  soon  after  this,  in  the  late 


season  of  roses,  her  man  had  gone  before  his  wife 
into  the  garden,  gathering  for  the  market  in  the  grey 
dusk  before  dawn  ;  and  wherever  he  went  moths 
and  beetles  came  flocking  to  the  light  of  his  lantern, 
beating  against  its  horn  shutters  and  crying  to  get 
in.  Out  of  each  rose,  as  the  light  fell  on  it,  winged 
things  sprang  up  into  the  darkness  ;  but  all  the  roses 
were  bowed  and  heavy  as  if  with  grief.  As  he 
picked  them  from  the  stem  great  showers  of  dew  fell 
out  of  them,  making  pools  in  the  hollow  of  his  palm. 

There  was  such  a  sound  of  tears  that  he  stopped 
to  listen  ;  and,  surely,  from  all  round  the  garden 
came  the  "  drip,  drip  "  of  falling  dew.  Yet  the 
pathways  under  foot  were  all  dry ;  there  had  been 
no  rain  and  but  little  dew.  Whence  was  it,  then, 
that  the  roses  so  shook  and  sobbed  ?  For  under  the 
stems,  surely,  there  was  something  that  sobbed  ; 
and  suddenly  the  light  of  the  lantern  took  hold  of  a 
beautiful  small  figure,  about  three  feet  high,  dressed 
in  old  rose  and  green,  that  went  languidly  from 
flower  to  flower.  She  lifted  up  such  tired  hands  to 
draw  their  heads  down  to  hers ;  and  to  each  one  she 
kissed  she  made  a  weary  little  sound  of  farewell, 
her  beautiful  face  broken  up  with  grief ;  and  now 
and  then  out  of  her  lips  ran  soft  chuckling  laughter, 
as  if  she  still  meant  to  be  glad,  but  could  not. 

The  gardener  broke  into  tears  to  behold  a  sight 
so  pitiful ;  and  his  wife  had  stolen  out  silently  to  his 
side,  and  was  weeping  too. 

"  Drip,  drip,"  went  the  roses  :  wherever  she  came 
and  kissed,  they  all  began  weeping.  The  gardener 
and  his  wife  knelt  down  and  watched  her  ;  in  and 
out,  in  and  out,  not  a  rose  blossom  did  she  miss. 

132 


She  came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  at  last  was  standing 
before  them.  She  seemed  hardly  able  to  draw  limb 
after  limb,  so  weak  was  she ;  and  her  filmy  garments 
hung  heavy  as  chains. 

A  little  voice  said  in  their  ears,  "  Kiss  me,  I  am 
dying !  " 

They  tasted  her  breath  of  rose. 

"  Do  not  die  !  "  they  said  simply. 

"  I  have  lived  three  hundred  years,"  she  answered. 
"  Now  I  must  die.  I  am  the  Luck  of  the  Roses,  but 
I  must  leave  them  and  die." 

"  When  must  you  die  ?  "  said  her  man  and  his 
wife. 

The  little  lady  said  :  "  Before  the  last  roses  are 
over ;  the  chills  of  night  take  me,  the  first  frost 
will  kill  me.  Soon  I  must  die.  Now  I  must 
dwindle  and  dwindle,  for  little  life  is  left  to  me, 
and  only  so  can  I  keep  warm.  As  life  and  heat  grow 
less,  so  must  I,  till  presently  I  am  no  more." 

She  was  a  little  thing  already — not  old,  she  did 
not  seem  old,  but  delicate  as  a  snowflake,  and  so 
weary.  She  laid  her  head  in  the  hand  of  the  gar- 
dener's wife,  and  sobbed  hard. 

"  You  dear  people,  who  belong  so  much  to  me 
too,  I  have  watched  over  you." 

"  Let  us  watch  over  you !  "  said  they.  They 
lifted  her  like  a  feather-weight,  and  carried  her 
into  the  house.  There,  in  the  ingle-nook,  she  sat 
and  shivered,  while  they  brought  rose-leaves  and 
piled  round  her  ;  but  every  hour  she  grew  less  and 
less. 

Presently  the  sun  shone  full  upon  her  from  the 
doorway  :  its  light  went  through  her  as  through 

135 


coloured  glass ;  and  her  man  and  his  wife  saw,  over 
the  ingle  behind  her,  shadows  fluttering  as  of  falling 
rose-petals  :  it  was  the  dying  rose  of  her  life,  falling 
without  end. 

All  day  long  she  dwindled  and  grew  more  weak 
and  frail.  Before  sunset  she  was  smaller  than  a 
small  child  when  it  first  comes  into  the  world. 
They  set  honey  before  her  to  taste,  but  she  was  too 
weary  to  uncurl  her  tiny  hands  :  they  lay  like  two 
white  petals  in  the  green  lap  of  her  gown.  The 
half-filled  panniers  of  roses  stood  where  they  had 
been  set  down  in  the  porch  :  the  good  couple  had 
taken  nothing  to  the  market  that  day.  The  luck 
of  the  house  lay  dying,  for  all  their  care ;  they 
could  but  sit  and  watch. 

When  the  sun  had  set,  she  faded  away  fast :  now 
she  was  as  small  as  a  young  wren.  The  gardener's 
wife  took  her  and  held  her  for  warmth  in  the  hollow 
of  her  hand.  Presently  she  seemed  no  more  than 
a  grasshopper  :  the  tiny  chirrup  of  her  voice  was 
heard,  about  the  middle  of  the  night,  asking  them 
to  take  her  and  lay  her  among  the  roses,  in  the 
heart  of  one  of  the  red  roses,  that  there  she  and 
death  might  meet  sweetly  at  the  last. 

They  went  together  into  the  dark  night,  and 
felt  their  way  among  the  roses ;  presently  they 
quite  lost  her  tiny  form  :  she  had  slipped  away 
into  the  heart  of  a  Jane  Janet  rose. 

The  gardener  and  his  wife  went  back  into  the 
house  and  sat  waiting  :  they  did  not  know  for 
what,  but  they  were  too  sad  at  heart  to  think  just 
then  of  sleep. 

Soon  the  first  greys  of   morning  began  to   steal 

136 


over  the  world ;  pale  shivers  ran  across  the  sky, 
and  one  bird  chirped  in  its  sleep  among  the  trees. 

All  at  once  there  rang  a  soft  sound  of  lamenta- 
tion among  the  roses  in  the  rose-garden  ;  again  and 
again,  like  the  cry  of  many  gentle  wounded  things 
in  pain.  The  gardener  and  his  wife  went  and 
opened  the  door  :  they  had  to  tell  the  bees  of  the 
fairy's  death.  They  looked  out  under  the  twilight, 
into  the  garden  they  loved.  "  Drip,"  "  drip," 
"  drip  "  came  the  sound  of  steady  weeping  under 
the  leaves.  Peering  out  through  the  shadows  they 
saw  all  the  rose-trees  rocking  softly  for  grief. 

"  Snow  ?  "    said  his  wife  to  her  man. 

But  it  was  not  snow. 

Under  the  dawn  all  the  roses  in  the  garden  had 
turned  white ;  for  they  knew  that  the  fairy  was 
dead. 

The  gardener  and  his  wife  woke  the  bees,  and 
told  them  of  the  fairy's  death ;  then  they  looked 
in  each  other's  faces,  and  saw  that  they,  too,  had 
become  white  and  grey. 

With  gentle  eyes  the  old  couple  took  hands,  and 
went  down  into  the  garden  to  gather  white  roses 
for  the  market. 


137 


THE  WHITE  DOE 

ONE  day,  as  the  king's  huntsman  was  riding 
in  the  forest,  he  came  to  a  small  pool. 
Fallen  leaves  covering  its  surface  had  given 
it  the  colour  of  blood,  and  knee-deep  in  their  midst 
stood  a  milk-white  doe  drinking. 

The  beauty  of  the  doe  set  fire  to  the  hunts- 
man's soul ;  he  took  an  arrow  and  aimed  well 
at  the  wild  heart  of  the  creature.  But  as  he  was 
loosing  the  string  the  branch  of  a  tree  over- 
hanging the  pool  struck  him  across  the  face,  and 
caught  hold  of  him  by  the  hair ;  and  arrow  and 
doe  vanished  away  together  into  the  depths  of 
the  forest. 

Never  until  now,  since  he  entered  the  king's 
service,  had  the  huntsman  missed  his  aim.  The 
thought  of  the  white  doe  living  after  he  had  willed 
its  death  inflamed  him  with  rage ;  he  could  not 
rest  till  he  had  brought  hounds  to  the  trail,  deter- 
mined to  follow  until  it  had  surrendered  to  him 
its  life. 

All  day,  while  he  hunted,  the  woods  stayed 
breathless,  as  if  to  watch ;  not  a  blade  moved,  not 
a  leaf  fell.  About  noon  a  red  deer  crossed  his 
path ;  but  he  paid  no  heed,  keeping  his  hounds 
only  to  the  white  doe's  trail. 

At  sunset  a  fallow  deer  came  to  disturb  the 
scent,  and  through  the  twilight,  as  it  deepened,  a 
grey  wolf  ran  in  and  out  of  the  underwood.  When 
night  came  down,  his  hounds  fled  from  his  call, 


following  through  tangled  thickets  a  huge  black 
boar  with  crescent  tusks.  So  he  found  himself 
alone,  with  his  horse  so  weary  that  it  could  scarcely 
move. 

But  still,  though  the  moon  was  slow  in  its  rising, 
the  fever  of  the  chase  burned  in  the  huntsman's 
veins,  and  caused  him  to  press  on.  For  now  he 
found  himself  at  the  rocky  entrance  of  a  ravine 
whence  no  way  led  ;  and  the  white  doe  being  still 
before  him,  he  made  sure  that  he  would  get  her 
at  last.  So  when  his  horse  fell,  too  tired  to  rise 
again,  he  dismounted  and  forced  his  way  on ;  and 
soon  he  saw  before  him  the  white  doe,  labouring 
up  an  ascent  of  sharp  crags,  while  closer  and  higher 
the  rocks  rose  and  narrowed  on  every  side.  Pre- 
sently she  had  leapt  high  upon  a  boulder  that  shook 
and  swayed  as  her  feet  rested,  and  ahead  the  wall 
of  rocks  had  joined  so  that  there  was  nowhere 
farther  that  she  might  go. 

Then  the  huntsman  notched  an  arrow,  and  drew 
with  full  strength,  and  let  it  go.  Fast  and  straight 
it  went,  and  the  wind  screamed  in  the  red  feathers 
as  they  flew ;  but  faster  the  doe  overleapt  his  aim, 
and,  spurning  the  stone  beneath,  down  the  rough- 
bouldered  gully  sent  it  thundering,  shivering  to 
fragments  as  it  fell.  Scarcely  might  the  huntsman 
escape  death  as  the  great  mass  swept  past  :  but 
when  the  danger  was  over  he  looked  ahead,  and  saw 
plainly,  where  the  stone  had  once  stood,  a  narrow 
opening  in  the  rock,  and  a  clear  gleam  of  moon- 
light beyond. 

That  way  he  went,  and  passing  through,  came 
upon  a  green  field,  as  full  of  flowers  as  a  garden, 

139 


duskily  shining  now,  and  with  dark  shadows  in  all 
its  folds.  Round  it  in  a  great  circle  the  rocks 
made  a  high  wall,  so  high  that  along  their  crest 
forest-trees  as  they  clung  to  look  over  seemed  but 
as  low-growing  thickets  against  the  sky. 

The  huntsman's  feet  stumbled  in  shadow  and 
trod  through  thick  grass  into  a  quick-flowing 
streamlet  that  ran  through  the  narrow  way  by 
which  he  had  entered.  He  threw  himself  down 
into  its  cool  bed,  and  drank  till  he  could  drink  no 
more.  When  he  rose  he  saw,  a  little  way  off,  a 
small  dwelling-house  of  rough  stone,  moss-covered 
and  cosy,  with  a  roof  of  wattles  which  had  taken 
root  and  pushed  small  shoots  and  clusters  of  grey 
leaves  through  their  weaving.  Nature,  and  not 
man,  seemed  there  to  have  been  building  herself 
an  abode. 

Before  the  doorway  ran  the  stream,  a  track  of 
white  mist  showing  where  it  wound  over  the 
meadow ;  and  by  its  edge  a  beautiful  maiden  sat, 
and  was  washing  her  milk-white  feet  and  arms  in 
the  wrinkling  eddies. 

To  the  huntsman  she  became  all  at  once  the  most 
beautiful  thing  that  the  world  contained  ;  all  the 
spirit  of  the  chase  seemed  to  be  in  her  blood, 
and  each  little  movement  of  her  feet  made  his 
heart  jump  for  joy.  "  I  have  looked  for  you  all 
my  life  !  "  thought  he,  as  he  halted  and  gazed, 
not  daring  to  speak  lest  the  lovely  vision  should 
vanish,  and  the  memory  of  it  mock  him  for 
ever. 

The  beautiful  maiden  looked  up  from  her  wash- 
ing. "  Why  have  you  come  here  ?  "  said  she. 

140 


The  huntsman  answered  her  as  he  believed  to 
be  the  truth,  "  I  have  come  because  I  love 
you  !  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  you  came  because  you  wanted 
to  kill  the  white  doe.  If  you  wish  to  kill  her,  it 
is  not  likely  that  you  can  love  me." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  kill  the  white  doe ! "  cried 
the  huntsman  ;  "  I  had  not  seen  you  when  I  wished 
that.  If  you  do  not  believe  that  I  love  you,  take 
my  bow  and  shoot  me  to  the  heart ;  for  I  will 
never  go  away  from  you  now." 

At  his  word  she  took  one  of  the  arrows,  looking 
curiously  at  the  red  feathers,  and  to  test  the  sharp 
point  she  pressed  it  against  her  breast.  "  Have  a 
care !  "  cried  the  hunter,  snatching  it  back.  He 
drew  his  breath  sharply  and  stared.  "  It  is  strange," 
he  declared ;  "a  moment  ago  I  almost  thought 
that  I  saw  the  white  doe." 

"  If  you  stay  here  to-night,"  said  the  maiden, 
"  about  midnight  you  will  see  the  white  doe  go 
by.  Take  this  arrow,  and  have  your  bow  ready, 
and  watch  !  And  if  to-morrow,  when  I  return, 
the  arrow  is  still  unused  in  your  hand,  I  will  be- 
lieve you  when  you  say  that  you  love  me.  And 
you  have  only  to  ask,  and  I  will  do  all  that  you 
desire." 

Then  she  gave  the  huntsman  food  and  drink  and 
a  bed  of  ferns  upon  which  to  rest.  "  Sleep  or  wake," 
said  she  as  she  parted  from  him ;  "  if  truly  you 
have  no  wish  to  kill  the  white  doe,  why  should  you 
wake  ?  Sleep  !  " 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  kill  the  white  doe,"  said  the 
huntsman.  Yet  he  could  not  sleep  :  the  memory 

141 


of  the  one  wild  creature  which  had  escaped  him 
stung  his  blood.  He  looked  at  the  arrow  which  he 
held  ready,  and  grew  thirsty  at  the  sight  of  it. 
"  If  I  see,  I  must  shoot !  "  cried  his  hunter's  heart. 
"  If  I  see,  I  must  not  shoot !  "  cried  his  soul, 
smitten  with  love  for  the  beautiful  maiden,  and 
remembering  her  word.  "  Yet,  if  I  see,  I  know  I 
must  shoot — so  shall  I  lose  all !  "  he  cried  as  mid- 
night approached,  and  the  fever  of  long  waiting 
remained  unassuaged. 

Then  with  a  sudden  will  he  drew  out  his  hunt- 
ing-knife, and  scored  the  palms  of  his  two  hands 
so  deeply  that  he  could  no  longer  hold  his  bow  or 
draw  the  arrow  upon  the  string.  "  Oh,  fair  one, 
I  have  kept  my  word  to  you !  "  he  cried  as  mid- 
night came.  "  The  bow  and  the  arrow  are  both 
ready." 

Looking  forth  from  the  threshold  by  which  he 
lay,  he  saw  pale  moonlight  and  mist  making  a  white 
haze  together  on  the  outer  air.  The  white  doe 
ran  by,  a  body  of  silver ;  like  quicksilver  she  ran. 
And  the  huntsman,  the  passion  to  slay  rousing  his 
blood,  caught  up  arrow  and  bow,  and  tried  in  vain 
with  his  maimed  hands  to  notch  the  shaft  upon  the 
string. 

The  beautiful  creature  leapt  lightly  by,  between 
the  curtains  of  moonbeam  and  mist ;  and  as  she  went 
she  sprang  this  way  and  that  across  the  narrow 
streamlet,  till  the  pale  shadows  hid  her  altogether 
from  his  sight.  "  Ah  !  ah  !  "  cried  the  huntsman, 
"  I  would  have  given  all  my  life  to  be  able  to  shoot 
then  !  I  am  the  most  miserable  man  alive ;  but 
to-morrow  I  will  be  the  happiest.  What  a  thing  is 

142 


love,  that  it  has  known  how  to  conquer  in  me  even 
my  hunter's  blood  !  " 

In  the  morning  the  beautiful  maiden  returned  ; 
she  came  sadly.  "  I  gave  you  my  word,"  said  she  : 
"  here  I  am.  If  you  have  the  arrow  still  with  you 
as  it  was  last  night,  I  will  be  your  wife,  because 
you  have  done  what  never  huntsman  before  was 
able  to  do — not  to  shoot  at  the  white  doe  when 
it  went  by." 

The  huntsman  showed  her  the  unused  arrow ; 
her  beauty  made  him  altogether  happy.  He  caught 
her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  till  the  sun  grew  high. 
Then  she  brought  food  and  set  it  before  him  ;  and 
taking  his  hand,  "  I  am  your  wife,"  said  she,  "  and 
with  all  my  heart  my  will  is  to  serve  you  faithfully. 
Only,  if  you  value  your  happiness,  do  not  shoot  ever 
at  the  white  doe."  Then  she  saw  that  there  was 
blood  on  his  hand,  and  her  face  grew  troubled.  She 
saw  how  the  other  hand  also  was  wounded.  "  How 
came  this  ?  "  she  asked ;  "  dear  husband,  you  were 
not  so  hurt  yesterday." 

And  the  huntsman  answered,  "  I  did  it  for  fear 
lest  in  the  night  I  should  fail,  and  shoot  at  the  white 
doe  when  it  came." 

Hearing  that,  his  wife  trembled  and  grew  white. 
"  You  have  tricked  us  both,"  she  said,  "  and  have  not 
truly  mastered  your  desire.  Now,  if  you  do  not 
promise  me  on  your  life  and  your  soul,  or  whatever 
is  dearer,  never  to  shoot  at  a  white  doe,  sorrow  will 
surely  come  of  it.  Promise  me,  and  you  shall 
certainly  be  happy  !  " 

So  the  huntsman  promised  faithfully,  saying, 
"  On  your  life,  which  is  dearer  to  me  than  my 

*43 


own,  I  give  you  my  word  to  keep  that  it  shall 
be  so."  Then  she  kissed  him,  and  bound  up  his 
wounds  with  healing  herbs  ;  and  to  look  at  her  all 
that  day,  and  for  many  days  after,  was  better  to 
him  than  all  the  hunting  the  king's  forest  could 
provide. 

For  a  whole  year  they  lived  together  in  perfect 
happiness,  and  two  children  came  to  bless  their 
union — a  boy  and  a  girl  born  at  the  same  hour. 
When  they  were  but  a  month  old  they  could  run  ; 
and  to  see  them  leaping  and  playing  before  the  door 
of  their  home  made  the  huntsman's  heart  jump  for 
joy.  "  They  are  forest-born,  and  they  come  of  a 
hunter's  blood  ;  that  is  why  they  run  so  early,  and 
have  such  limbs,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,"  answered  his  wife,  "  that  is  partly  why. 
When  they  grow  older  they  will  run  so  fast — 
do  not  mistake  them  for  deer  if  ever  you  go 
hunting." 

No  sooner  had  she  said  the  word  than  the 
memory  of  it,  which  had  slept  for  a  whole  year, 
stirred  his  blood.  The  scent  of  the  forest  blew 
up  through  the  rocky  ravine,  which  he  had  never 
repassed  since  the  day  when  he  entered,  and  he 
laid  his  hands  thoughtfully  on  the  weapons  he  no 
longer  used. 

Such  restlessness  took  hold  of  him  all  that  day 
that  at  night  he  slept  ill,  and,  waking,  found  himself 
alone  with  no  wife  at  his  side.  Gazing  about  the 
room,  he  saw  that  the  cradle  also  was  empty. 
"  Why,"  he  wondered,  "  have  they  gone  out 
together  in  the  middle  of  the  night  ?  " 

Yet  he  gave  it  little  more  thought,  and  turning 
144 


over,  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep,  and  dreamed  of 
hunting  and  of  the  white  doe  that  he  had  seen  a  year 
before  stooping  to  drink  among  the  red  leaves  that 
covered  the  forest  pool. 

In  the  morning  his  wife  was  by  his  side,  and  the 
little  ones  lay  asleep  upon  their  crib.  "  Where 
were  you,"  he  asked,  "  last  night  ?  I  woke,  and  you 
were  not  here." 

His  wife  looked  at  him  tenderly,  and  sighed. 
"  You  should  shut  your  eyes  better,"  said  she.  "  I 
went  out  to  see  the  white  doe,  and  the  little  ones 
came  also.  Once  a  year  I  see  her ;  it  is  a  thing  I 


must  not  miss." 


The  beauty  of  the  white  doe  was  like  strong 
drink  to  his  memory :  the  beautiful  limbs  that 
had  leapt  so  fast  and  escaped — they  alone,  of  all 
the  wild  life  in  the  world,  had  conquered  him. 
"  Ah !  "  he  cried,  "  let  me  see  her,  too ;  let 
her  come  tame  to  my  hand,  and  I  will  not  hurt 
her !  " 

His  wife  answered  :  "  The  heart  of  the  white 
doe  is  too  wild  a  thing ;  she  cannot  come  tame 
to  the  hand  of  any  hunter  under  heaven.  Sleep 
again,  dear  husband,  and  wake  well !  For  a  whole 
year  you  have  been  sufficiently  happy ;  the  white 
doe  would  only  wound  you  again  in  your  two 
hands." 

When  his  wife  was  not  by,  the  hunter  took  the  two 
children  upon  his  knee,  and  said,  "  Tell  me,  what 
was  the  white  doe  like  ?  what  did  she  do  ?  and  what 
way  did  she  go  ?  " 

The  children  sprang  off  his  knee,  and  leapt  to  and 
fro  over  the  stream.  "  She  was  like  this,"  they  cried, 

K  I45 


"  and  she  did  this,  and  this  was  the  way  she  went !  " 
At  that  the  hunter  drew  his  hand  over  his  brow. 
"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  I  seemed  then  almost  to  see  the 
white  doe." 

Little  peace  had  he  from  that  day.  When- 
ever his  wife  was  not  there  he  would  call  the 
little  ones  to  him,  and  cry,  "  Show  me  the  white 
doe  and  what  she  did."  And  the  children  would 
leap  and  spring  this  way  and  that  over  the  little 
stream  before  the  door,  crying,  "  She  was  like 
this,  and  she  did  this,  and  this  was  the  way  she 
went !  " 

The  huntsman  loved  his  wife  and  children  with 
a  deep  affection,  yet  he  began  to  have  a  dread 
that  there  was  something  hidden  from  his  eyes 
which  he  wished  yet  feared  to  know.  "  Tell  me," 
he  cried  one  day,  half  in  wrath,  when  the  fever 
of  the  white  doe  burned  more  than  ever  in  his 
blood,  "  tell  me  where  the  white  doe  lives,  and 
why  she  comes,  and  when  next.  For  this  time  I 
must  see  her,  or  I  shall  die  of  the  longing  that 
has  hold  of  me ! "  Then,  when  his  wife  would 
give  no  answer,  he  seized  his  bow  and  arrows  and 
rushed  out  into  the  forest,  which  for  a  whole  year 
had  not  known  him,  slaying  all  the  red  deer  he 
could  find. 

Many  he  slew  in  his  passion,  but  he  brought  none 
of  them  home,  for  before  the  end  a  strange  discovery 
came  to  him,  and  he  stood  amazed,  dropping  the 
haunch  which  he  had  cut  from  his  last  victim.  "  It 
is  a  whole  year,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  I  have  not 
tasted  meat ;  I,  a  hunter,  who  love  only  the  meat 
that  I  kill !  " 

146 


Returning  home  late,  he  found  his  wife  troubling 
her  heart  over  his  long  absence.  "  Where  have  you 
been  ?  "  she  asked  him,  and  the  question  inflamed 
him  into  a  fresh  passion. 

"  I  have  been  out  hunting  for  the  white  doe,"  he 
cried ;  "  and  she  carries  a  spot  in  her  side  where  some 
day  my  arrow  must  enter.  If  I  do  not  find  her  I 
shall  die !  " 

His  wife  looked  at  him  long  and  sorrowfully ; 
then  she  said  :  "  On  your  life  and  soul  be  it,  and  on 
mine  also,  that  your  anger  makes  me  tell  what  I 
would  have  kept  hidden.  It  is  to-night  that  she 
comes.  Now  it  remains  for  you  to  remember  your 
word  once  given  to  me !  " 

"  Give  it  back  to  me  !  "  he  cried  ;  "  it  is  my  fate 
to  finish  the  quest  of  the  white  doe." 

"  If  I  give  it,"  said  she,  "  your  happiness  goes 
with  it,  and  mine,  and  that  of  our  children." 

"  Give  it  back  to  me  !  "  he  said  again  ;  "  I  cannot 
live  unless  I  may  master  the  white  doe  !  If  she  will 
come  tame  to  my  hand,  no  harm  shall  happen  to 
her." 

And  when  she  denied  him  again,  he  gave  her  his 
bow  and  arrows,  and  bade  her  shoot  him  to  the  heart, 
since  without  his  word  rendered  back  to  him  he 
could  not  live. 

Then  his  wife  took  both  his  hands  and  kissed 
them  tenderly,  and  with  loud  weeping  quickly  set 
him  free  of  his  promise.  "  As  well,"  said  she,  "  ask 
the  hunter  to  go  bound  to  the  lion's  den  as  the  white 
doe  to  come  tame  into  your  keeping ;  though  she 
loved  you  with  all  her  heart,  you  could  not  look  at 
her  and  not  be  her  enemy."  She  gazed  on  him  with 

«47 


full  affection,  and  sighed  deeply.  "  Lie  down  for 
a  little,"  she  said,  "  and  rest ;  it  is  not  till  mid- 
night that  she  comes.  When  she  comes  I  will 
wake  you." 

She  took  his  head  in  her  hands  and  set  it  upon  her 
knee,  making  him  lie  down.  "  If  she  will  come  and 
stand  tame  to  my  hand,"  he  said  again,  "  then  I  will 
do  her  no  harm." 

After  a  while  he  fell  asleep  ;  and,  dreaming  of 
the  white  doe,  started  awake  to  find  it  was  already 
midnight,  and  the  white  doe  standing  there  before 
him.  But  as  soon  as  his  eyes  lighted  on  her  they 
kindled  with  such  fierce  ardour  that  she  trembled 
and  sprang  away  out  of  the  door  and  across  the 
stream.  "  Ah,  ah,  white  doe,  white  doe  !  "  cried 
the  wind  in  the  feathers  of  the  shaft  that  flew  after 
her. 

Just  at  her  leaping  of  the  stream  the  arrow  touched 
her ;  and  all  her  body  seemed  to  become  a  mist 
that  dissolved  and  floated  away,  broken  into  thin 
fragments  over  the  fast-flowing  stream. 

By  the  hunter's  side  his  wife  lay  dead,  with  an 
arrow  struck  into  her  heart.  The  door  of  the  house 
was  shut ;  it  seemed  to  be  only  an  evil  dream  from 
which  he  had  suddenly  awakened.  But  the  arrow 
gave  real  substance  to  his  hand  :  when  he  drew  it 
out  a  few  true  drops  of  blood  flowed  after.  Sud- 
denly the  hunter  knew  all  he  had  done.  "  Oh, 
white  doe,  white  doe  !  "  he  cried,  and  fell  down  with 
his  face  to  hers. 

At  the  first  light  of  dawn  he  covered  her  with 
dry  ferns,  that  the  children  might  not  see  how 
she  lay  there  dead.  "  Run  out,"  he  cried  to  them, 

148 


"  run  out  and  play !  Play  as  the  white  doe  used 
to  do  !  "  And  the  children  ran  out  and  leapt  this 
way  and  that  across  the  stream,  crying,  "  She  was 
like  this,  and  she  did  this,  'and  this  was  the  way 
she  went !  " 

So  while  they  played  along  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  the  hunter  took  up  his  beautiful  dead  wife 
and  buried  her.  And  to  the  children  he  said, 
"  Your  mother  has  gone  away ;  when  the  white  doe 
comes  she  will  return  also." 

"  She  was  like  this,"  they  cried,  laughing  and 
playing,  "  and  she  did  this,  and  this  was  the  way 
she  went !  "  And  all  the  time  as  they  played  he 
seemed  to  see  the  white  doe  leaping  before  him  in 
the  sunlight. 

That  night  the  hunter  lay  sleepless  on  his  bed, 
wishing  for  the  world  to  end ;  but  in  the  crib  by 
his  side  the  two  children  lay  in  a  sound  slumber. 
Then  he  saw  plainly  in  the  moonlight,  the  white  doe 
with  a  red  mark  in  her  side,  standing  still  by  the 
doorway.  Soon  she  went  to  where  the  young  ones 
were  lying,  and,  as  she  touched  the  coverlet  softly 
with  her  right  fore-foot,  all  at  once  two  young 
fawns  rose  up  from  the  ground  and  sprang  away 
into  the  open,  following  where  the  white  doe 
beckoned  them. 

Nor  did  they  ever  return.  For  the  rest  of  his 
life  the  huntsman  stayed  where  they  left  him,  a 
sorrowful  and  lonely  man.  In  the  grave  where 
lay  the  woman's  form  he  had  slain  he  buried  his 
bow  and  arrows  far  from  the  sight  of  the  sun  or 
the  reach  of  his  own  hand  ;  and  coming  to  the  place 
night  by  night,  he  would  watch  the  mists  and  the 


moonrise,  and  cry,  "  White  doe,  white  doe,  will 
you  not  some  day  forgive  me  ?  "  and  did  not  know 
that  she  had  forgiven  him  then  when,  before  she  died, 
she  kissed  his  two  hands  and  made  him  sleep  for 
the  last  time  with  his  head  on  her  knee. 


152 


THE  MOON-STROKE 

IN  the  hollow  heart  of  an  old  tree  a  Jackdaw 
and  his  wife  had  made  themselves  a  nest.  As 
soon  as  the  mother  of  his  eggs  had  finished 
laying,  she  sat  waiting  patiently  for  something  to 
come  of  it.  One  by  one  five  mouths  poked  out  of 
the  shells,  demanding  to  be  fed ;  so  for  weeks  the 
happy  couple  had  to  be  continually  in  two  places 
at  once  searching  for  food  to  satisfy  them. 

Presently  the  wings  of  the  young  ones  grew 
strong ;  they  could  begin  to  fly  about ;  and  the 
parents  found  time  for  a  return  to  pleasuring  and 
curiosity-hunting.  They  began  gathering  in  a 
wise  assortment  of  broken  glass  and  chips  of  platter 
to  grace  the  corners  of  their  dwelling.  All  but  the 
youngest  Jackdaw  were  enchanted  with  their  un- 
utterable beauty  and  value  ;  they  were  never  tired 
of  quarrelling  over  the  possession  and  arrangement 
of  them. 

"  But  what  are  they  for  ?  "  asked  the  youngest, 
a  perverse  bird  who  kept  himself  apart  from  the 
rest,  and  took  no  share  in  their  daily  squabblings. 

The  mother- bird  said  :  "  They  are  beautiful, 
and  what  God  intended  for  us  :  therefore  they 
must  be  true.  We  may  not  see  the  use  of  them 
yet,  but  no  doubt  some  day  they  will  come  true." 

The  little  Jackdaw  said  :  "  Their  corners  scratch 
me  when  I  want  to  go  to  sleep  ;  they  are  far  worse 
than  crumbs  in  the  bed.  All  the  other  birds  do 
without  them — why  should  not  we  ?  " 

153 


"  That  is  what  distinguishes  us  from  the  other 
birds !  "  replied  the  Janedaw,  and  thanked  her 
stars  that  it  was  so. 

"  I  wish  we  could  sing !  "  sighed  the  littlest 
young  Jackdaw. 

"  Babble,  babble  !  "   replied  his  mother  angrily. 

And  then,  as  it  was  dinner-time,  he  forgot  his 
grief,  as  they  all  said  grace  and  fell-to. 

One  evening  the  old  Jackdaw  came  home  very 
late,  carrying  something  that  burned  bright  and 
green,  like  an  evening  star  ;  all  the  nest  shone  where 
he  set  it  down. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  for  a  discovery  ?  " 
he  said  to  the  Janedaw. 

"Think?"  she  said;  "I  can't.  Some  of  it 
looks  good  to  eat ;  but  that  fire-patch  at  the  end 
would  burn  one's  inside  out." 

Presently  the  Jackdaw  family  settled  itself  down 
to  sleep  ;  only  the  youngest  one  sat  up  and  watched. 
Now  he  had  seen  something  beautiful.  Was  it  going 
to  come  true  ?  Its  light  was  like  the  song  of  the 
nightingale  in  the  leaves  overhead  :  it  glowed,  and 
throbbed,  and  grew  strong,  flooding  the  whole  place 
where  it  lay. 

Soon,  in  the  silence,  he  heard  a  little  wail  of 
grief :  "  Why  have  they  carried  me  away  here," 
sighed  the  glow-worm,  "  out  of  the  tender  grass  that 
loves  the  ground  ?  " 

The  littlest  Jackdaw  listened  with  all  his  heart. 
Now  something  at  last  was  going  to  become  true, 
without  scratching  his  legs  and  making  him  feel  as 
though  crumbs  were  in  his  bed. 

A  little  winged  thing  came  flying  down  to  the 

154 


green  light,  and  two  voices  began  crying  together 
— the  glow-worm  and  its  mate. 

"  They  have  carried  you  away  ?  " 

"  They  have  carried  me  away ;  up  here  I  shall 
die !  " 

"  I  am  too  weak  to  lift  you,"  said  the  one  with 
wings ;  "  you  will  stay  here,  and  you  will  die !  " 
Then  they  cried  yet  more. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  thought  the  Jackdaw,  "  that 
as  soon  as  the  beautiful  becomes  true,  God  does 
not  intend  it  to  be  for  us."  He  got  up  softly  from 
among  his  brothers.  I  will  carry  you  down,"  he 
said.  And  without  more  ado,  he  picked  it  up  and 
carried  it  down  out  of  the  nest,  and  laid  it  in  the 
long  grass  at  the  foot  of  the  tree. 

Overhead  the  nightingale  sang,  and  the  full  moon 
shone ;  its  rays  struck  down  on  the  little  Jack- 
daw's head. 

For  a  bird  that  is  not  a  nightingale  to  wake  up 
and  find  its  head  unprotected  under  the  rays  of  a 
full  moon  is  serious :  there  and  then  he  became 
moon-struck.  He  went  back  into  bed  ;  but  he  was 
no  longer  the  same  little  Jackdaw.  "  Oh,  I  wish 
I  could  sing !  "  he  thought ;  and  not  for  hours 
could  he  get  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning,  when  the  family  woke  up,  the 
beautiful  and  the  true  was  gone.  The  father  Jack- 
daw thought  he  must  have  swallowed  it  in  his  sleep. 

"  If  you  did,"  said  his  wife,  "  there'll  be  a  smell 
of  burnt  feathers  before  long  !  " 

But  the  littlest  Jackdaw  said,  "  It  came  true,  and 

went  away,  because  it  was  never  intended  for  us." 

Now  some  days  after  this  the  old  Jackdaw  again 

155 


came  carrying  something  that  shone  like  an  even- 
ing star — a  little  spike  of  gold  with  a  burning 
emerald  set  in  the  end  of  it.  "  And  what  do  you 
think  of  that  ?  "  said  he  to  his  wife. 

"  I  daren't  come  near  it,"  she  answered,  "  for 
fear  it  should  burn  me !  " 

That  night  the  little  Jackdaw  lay  awake,  while 
all  the  others  slept,  waiting  to  hear  the  green  stone 
break  out  into  sorrow,  and  to  see  if  its  winged  mate 
would  come  seeking  it.  But  after  hours  had  gone, 
and  nothing  stirred  or  spoke,  he  slipped  softly  out 
of  the  nest,  and  went  down  to  search  for  the  poor 
little  winged  mate  who  must  surely  be  about  some- 
where. 

And  now,  truly,  among  the  grasses  and  flowers 
he  heard  something  sobbing  and  sighing ;  a  little 
winged  thing  darted  into  sight  and  out  again, 
searching  the  ground  like  a  dragon-fly  at  quest. 
And  all  the  time,  amid  the  darting  and  humming  of 
its  wings,  came  sobbing  and  wringing  of  hands. 

The  young  Jackdaw  called :  "  Little  wings, 
what  have  you  lost  ?  Is  it  not  a  spike  with  a  green 
light  at  the  end  of  it  ?  " 

"  My  wand,  my  wand  !  "  cried  the  fairy,  beside 
herself  with  grief.  "  Just  about  sunset  I  was  asleep 
in  an  empty  wren's  nest,  and  when  I  woke  up  my 
wand  was  gone  !  " 

Then  the  little  Jackdaw,  being  moon-struck,  and 
not  knowing  the  value  of  things,  flew  up  to  the 
nest  and  brought  back  the  fairy  her  wand. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  cried,  "  you  have  saved  my  life  !  " 
And  she  thanked  the  Jackdaw  till  he  grew  quite 
modest  and  shy. 


"  What  is  it  for  ?  What  can  you  do  with  it  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  With  this,"  she  answered,  "  I  can  make  any- 
thing beautiful  come  true !  I  can  give  you  what- 
ever you  ask ;  you  have  but  to  ask,  and  you  shall 
have." 

Then  the  little  Jackdaw,  being  moon-struck,  and 
not  knowing  the  value  of  things,  said,  "  Oh,  if  I 
could  only  sing  like  a  nightingale !  " 

"  You  can  !  "  said  the  fairy,  waving  her  wand 
but  once ;  and  immediately  something  like  a 
melodious  sneeze  flew  into  his  head  and  set  it 
shaking. 

"  Chiou  !  chiou  !  True- true- true- true  !  Jug  ! 
jug  !  Oh,  beautiful !  beautiful !  "  His  beak  went 
dabbling  in  the  sweet  sound,  rippling  it  this  way 
and  that,  spraying  it  abroad  out  of  his  blissful  heart 
as  a  jewel  throws  out  its  fires. 

The  fairy  was  gone ;  but  the  little  Jackdaw 
sprang  up  into  the  high  elm,  and  sang  on  endlessly 
through  the  whole  night. 

At  dawn  he  stopped,  and  looking  down,  there 
he  saw  the  family  getting  ready  for  breakfast,  and 
wondering  what  had  become  of  him. 

Just  as  they  were  saying  grace  he  flew  in,  his 
little  heart  beating  with  joy  over  his  new-found 
treasure.  What  a  jewel  of  a  voice  he  had  :  better 
than  all  the  pieces  of  glass  and  chips  of  platter  lying 
down  there  in  the  nest !  As  soon  as  the  parent- 
birds  had  finished  grace,  he  lifted  his  voice  and 
thanked  God  that  the  thing  he  had  wished  for  had 
become  true. 

None  of  them  understood  what  he  said,  but  they 

'59 


paid  him  plenty  of  attention.  All  his  brothers  and 
sisters  put  up  their  heads  and  giggled,  as  the  young 
do  when  one  of  their  number  misbehaves. 

"  Don't  make  that  noise  !  "  said  his  mother  ; 
"  it's  not  decent !  " 

"  It's  low  !  "    said  the  father-bird. 

The  littlest  young  Jackdaw  was  overwhelmed 
with  astonishment.  When  he  tried  to  explain,  his 
unseemly  melodies  led  to  his  immediate  expulsion 
from  the  family  circle.  Such  noises,  he  was  told, 
could  only  be  made  in  private  ;  when  he  had  quite 
got  over  them  he  might  come  back, — but  not  until. 

He  never  got  over  them  ;  so  he  never  came  back. 
For  a  few  days  he  hid  himself  in  different  trees  of 
the  garden,  and  sang  the  praises  of  sorrow ;  but  his 
family,  though  they  comprehended  him  not,  recog- 
nised his  note,  and  came  searching  him  with  beak 
and  claw,  and  drove  him  out  so  as  not  to  have  him 
near  them  committing  such  scandalous  noises  to  the 
ears  of  the  public. 

"  He  lies  in  his  throat !  "  said  the  old  Jackdaw. 
"  Everything  he  says  he  garbles.  If  he  is  our  son 
he  must  have  been  hatched  on  the  wrong  side  of 
the  nest !  " 

After  that,  wherever  he  went,  all  the  birds  jeered 
at  and  persecuted  him.  Even  the  nightingales 
would  not  listen  to  his  brotherly  voice.  They  made 
fun  of  his  black  coat,  and  called  him  a  Nonconform- 
ist without  a  conscience.  "  All  this  has  come 
about,"  thought  he,  "  because  God  never  meant 
anything  beautiful  to  come  true." 

One  day  a  man  who  saw  him  and  heard  him  sing- 
ing, caught  him,  and  took  him  round  the  world  in  a 

160 


cage  for  show.  The  value  of  him  was  discovered. 
Great  crowds  came  to  see  the  little  Jackdaw,  and  to 
hear  him  sing.  He  was  described  now  as  the 
"  Amphabulous  Philomel,  or  the  Mongrel- 
Minstrel  "  ;  but  it  gave  him  no  joy. 

Before  long  he  had  become  what  we  call  tame — 
that  is  to  say,  his  wings  had  been  clipped  ;  he  was 
allowed  out  of  his  cage,  because  he  could  no  longer 
fly  away,  and  he  sang  when  he  was  told,  because  he 
was  whipped  if  he  did  not. 

One  day  there  was  a  great  crowd  round  the  travel- 
ling booth  where  he  was  on  view  :  the  showman  had 
a  new  wonder  which  he  was  about  to  show  to  the 
people.  He  took  the  little  Jackdaw  out  of  his  cage, 
and  set  him  to  perch  upon  his  shoulder,  while  he 
busied  himself  over  something  which  he  was  taking 
carefully  out  of  ever  so  many  boxes  and  coverings. 

The  Jackdaw's  sad  eye  became  attracted  by  a 
splendid  scarf-pin  that  the  showman  wore — a  gold 
pin  set  with  a  tiny  emerald  that  burned  like  fire. 
The  bird  thought,  "  Now  if  only  the  beautiful  could 
become  true !  " 

And  now  the  showman  began  holding  up  a  small 
glass  bottle  for  the  crowd  to  stare  into.  The 
people  were  pushing  this  way  and  that  to  see  what 
might  be  there. 

At  the  bottom  sat  the  little  fairy,  without  her 
wand,  weeping  and  beating  her  hands  on  the  glass. 

The  showman  was  so  proud  he  grew  red  in  the 
face,  and  ran  shouting  up  and  down  the  plank, 
shaking  and  turning  the  bottle  upside  down  now  and 
then,  so  as  to  make  the  cabined  fairy  use  her  wings, 
and  buzz  like  a  fly  against  the  glass. 

L  161 


The  Jackdaw  waggled  unsteadily  at  his  perch  on 
the  man's  shoulder.  "  Look  at  him  !  "  laughed  some- 
one in  the  crowd,  "  he's  going  to  steal  his  master's 
scarf-pin." 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  "  shouted  the  showman.  "  See 
this  bird  now  !  See  the  marvellous  mongrel  nature 
of  the  beast !  Who  tells  me  he's  only  a  nightingale 
painted  black  ?  " 

The  people  laughed  the  more  at  that,  for  there 
was  a  fellow  in  the  crowd  looking  sheepish.  The 
Jackdaw  had  drawn  out  the  scarf-pin,  and  held  it 
gravely  in  its  beak,  looking  sideways  with  cunning 
eyes.  He  was  wishing  hard.  All  the  crowd  laughed 
again. 

Suddenly  the  showman's  hand  gave  a  jerk,  the 
bottle  slipped  from  his  hold  and  fell,  shivering  itself 
upon  the  ground. 

There  was  a  buzz  of  wings — the  fairy  had  escaped. 

"  The  beautiful  is  coming  true,"  thought  the 
Jackdaw,  as  he  yielded  to  the  fairy  her  wand,  and 
found,  suddenly,  that  his  wings  were  not  clipped 
after  all. 

"  What  more  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  asked  the  fairy, 
as  they  flew  away  together.  "  You  gave  me  back  my 
wand  ;  I  have  given  you  back  your  wings." 

"  I  will  not  ask  anything,"  said  the  little  Jack- 
daw ;  "  what  God  intends  will  come  true." 

"  Let  me  take  you  up  to  the  moon,"  said  the 
fairy.  "  All  the  Jackdaws  up  there  sing  like  night- 
ingales." 

"  Why  is  that  ?  "  asked  the  little  Jackdaw. 

"  Because  they  are  all  moon-struck,"  she  answered. 

"  And  what  is  it  to  be  moon-struck  ?  "  he  asked. 

162 


"  Surely  you  should  know,  if  anyone  !  "  laughed 
the  fairy.  "  To  see  things  beautifully,  and  not  as 
they  are.  On  the  moon  you  will  be  able  to  do  that 
without  any  difficulty." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  little  Jackdaw,  "  now  I  know  at 
last  that  the  beautiful  is  going  to  come  true  !  " 


163 


THE  GENTLE  COCKATRICE 

FAR  above  the  terraces  of  vine,  where  the  goat 
pastures  ended  and  the  rocks  began,  the  eye 
could  take  a  clear  view  over  the  whole  plain. 
From  that  point  the  world  below  spread  itself  out 
like  a  green  map,  and  the  only  walls  one  could  see 
were  the  white  flanks  and  tower  of  the  cathedral 
rising  up  from  the  grey  roofs  of  the  city  ;  as  for  the 
streets,  they  seemed  to  be  but  narrow  foot-tracks 
on  which  people  appeared  like  ants  walking. 

This  was  the  view  of  the  town  which  Beppo,  the 
son  of  the  common  hangman,  loved  best.  It  was 
little  pleasure  to  him  to  be  down  there,  where  all  the 
other  lads  drove  him  from  their  play  :  for  the  hang- 
man had  had  too  much  to  do  with  the  fathers  and 
brothers  of  someof  them,  and  his  son  was  not  popular. 
When  there  was  a  hanging  they  would  rush  off  to 
the  public  square  to  see  it ;  afterwards  they  made  it 
their  sport  to  play  at  hanging  Beppo,  if  by  chance 
they  could  catch  him  ;  and  that  play  had  a  way  at 
times  of  coming  uncomfortably  near  to  reality. 

Beppo  did  not  himself  go  to  the  square  when  his 
father's  trade  was  on  ;  the  near  view  did  not  please 
him.  Perched  on  the  rocky  hillside,  he  would  look 
down  upon  a  gathering  of  black  specks,  where  two 
others  stood  detached  upon  a  space  in  their  midst, 
and  would  know  that  there  his  father  was  hanging 
a  man. 

Sometimes  it  was  more  than  one,  and  that  made 
Beppo  afraid.  For  he  knew  that  for  every  man  that 

164 


he  hanged  his  father  took  a  dram  to  give  him  courage 
for  the  work  ;  and  if  there  were  several  poor  fellows 
to  be  cast  off  from  life,  the  hangman  was  not  pleasant 
company  afterwards  for  those  very  near  and  dear 
to  him. 

It  happened  one  day  that  the  hangman  was  to 
give  the  rope  to  five  fellows,  the  most  popular  and 
devil-may-care  rakes  and  roysterers  in  the  whole 
town.  Beppo  was  up  very  early  that  morning, 
and  at  the  first  streak  of  light  had  dropped  himself 
over  the  wall  into  the  town  ditch,  and  was  away  for 
the  open  country  and  the  free  air  of  the  hills ;  for 
he  knew  that  neither  at  home  nor  in  the  streets 
would  life  be  worth  living  for  a  week  after,  because  of 
all  the  vengeances  that  would  fall  on  him. 

Therefore  he  had  taken  from  the  home  larder  a 
loaf  of  bread  and  a  clump  of  dried  figs ;  and  with 
these  hoped  to  stand  the  siege  of  a  week's  solitude 
rather  than  fall  in  with  the  hard  dealings  of  his  own 
kind.  He  knew  a  cave,  above  where  the  goats  found 
pasture,  out  of  which  a  little  red,  rusty  water 
trickled  ;  there  he  thought  to  make  himself  a  castle 
and  dream  dreams,  and  was  sure  he  would  be  happy 
enough,  if  only  he  did  not  grow  afraid. 

Beppo  had  discovered  the  cave  one  day  from  see- 
ing a  goat  push  out  through  a  thicket  of  creepers  on 
the  side  of  the  hill ;  and,  hidden  under  their  leaves, 
he  had  found  it  a  wonderful,  cool  refuge  from  the 
heat  of  summer  noons.  Now,  as  he  entered,  the 
place  struck  very  cold  ;  for  it  was  early  spring,  and 
the  earth  was  not  yet  warmed  through  with  the 
sun.  So  he  set  himself  to  gather  dead  grass,  and 
briers,  and  tufts  of  goat's  hair  and  from  farther 

165 


down  the  hillside  the  wood  of  a  ruined  goat-paddock, 
till  he  had  a  great  store  of  fuel  at  hand.  He  worked 
all  day  like  a  squirrel  for  its  winter  hoard  ;  and  as 
his  pile  mounted  he  grew  less  and  less  afraid  of  the 
cave  where  he  meant  to  live. 

Seeing  so  large  a  heap  of  stuff  ready  for  the  feeding 
of  his  fire,  he  began  to  rise  to  great  heights  in  his 
own  imagination.  First  he  had  been  a  poor  outlaw, 
a  mere  sheep-stealer  hiding  from  men's  clutches ; 
then  he  became  a  robber-chief ;  and  at  last  he  was 
no  less  than  the  king  of  the  mountains. 

"  This  mountain  is  all  caves,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  and  all  the  caves  are  full  of  gold ;  and  I  am  the 
king  to  whom  it  all  belongs." 

In  the  evening  Beppo  lighted  his  fire,  in  the  far 
back  of  his  cave,  where  its  light  would  not  be  seen, 
and  sat  down  by  its  warmth  to  eat  dried  figs  and 
bread  and  drink  brackish  water.  To-morrow  he 
meant  to  catch  a  kid  and  roast  it  and  eat  it.  Why 
should  he  ever  go  home  again  ?  Kid  was  good — 
he  did  not  get  that  to  eat  when  he  was  at  home ; 
and  now  in  the  streets  the  boys  must  be  looking  for 
him  to  play  at  their  cruel  game  of  hanging.  Why 
should  he  go  back  at  all  ? 

The  fire  licked  its  way  up  the  long  walls  of  the 
cavern  ;  slowly  the  warmth  crept  round  on  all  sides. 
The  rock  where  Beppo  laid  his  hand  was  no  longer 
damp  and  cold  ;  he  made  himself  a  bed  of  the  dried 
litter  in  a  niche  close  to  the  fire,  laid  his  head  on  a 
smooth  knob  of  stone,  and  slept.  But  even  in  his 
sleep  he  remembered  his  fire,  dreading  to  awake  and 
find  himself  in  darkness.  Every  time  the  warmth  of 
it  diminished  he  raised  himself  and  put  on  more  fuel. 

1 66 


In  the  morning — for  faint  blue  edges  of  light 
marking  the  ridged  throat  of  the  cavern  told  that 
outside  the  day  had  begun — he  woke  fully,  and  the 
fire  still  burned.  As  he  lay,  his  pillow  of  rock  felt 
warm  and  almost  soft;  and, strangely  enough, through 
it  there  went  a  beating  sound  as  of  blood.  This  must 
be  his  own  brain  that  he  heard ;  but  he  lifted  his 
head,  and  where  he  laid  his  hand  could  feel  a  slow 
movement  of  life  going  on  under  it.  Then  he  stared 
hard  at  the  overhanging  rock,  and  surely  it  heaved 
softly  up  and  down,  like  some  great  thing  breathing 
slowly  in  its  sleep. 

Yet  he  could  make  out  no  shape  at  all  till,  having 
run  to  the  other  side  of  the  cave,  he  turned  to  see 
the  whole  face  of  the  rock  which  seemed  to  be 
taking  on  life.  Then  he  realised  very  gradually 
what  looked  to  be  the  throat  and  jaws  of  a  great 
monster  lying  along  the  ground,  while  all  the  rest 
passed  away  into  shadow  or  lay  buried  under  masses 
of  rock,  which  closed  round  it  like  a  mould.  Below 
the  nether- jaw  bone  the  flames  licked  and  caressed 
the  throat ;  and  the  tough,  mud-coloured  hide 
ruffled  and  smoothed  again  as  if  grateful  for  the 
heat  that  tickled  its  way  in. 

Very  slowly  indeed  the  great  Cockatrice,  which 
had  lain  buried  for  thousands  of  years,  out  of  reach 
of  the  light  or  heat  of  the  sun,  was  coming  round 
again  to  life.  That  was  Beppo's  own  doing,  and 
for  some  very  curious  reason  he  was  not  afraid. 

His  heart  was  uplifted.  "  This  is  my  cave," 
thought  he,  "  so  this  must  be  my  Cockatrice ! 
Now  I  will  ride  out  on  him  and  conquer  the  world. 
I  shall  be  really  a  king  then  !  " 

169 


He  guessed  that  it  must  have  been  the  warmth 
which  had  waked  the  Cockatrice,  so  he  made  fires 
all  down  the  side  of  the  cave ;  wherever  the  great 
flank  of  the  Cockatrice  seemed  to  show,  there  he 
lighted  a  fire  to  put  heat  into  the  slumbering  body 
of  the  beast. 

"  Warm  up,  old  fellow,"  he  cried  ;  "  thaw  out,  I 
tell  you  !  I  want  you  to  talk  to  me." 

Presently  the  mouth  of  the  Cockatrice  unsealed 
itself,  and  began  to  babble  of  green  fields.  "  Hay 
— I  want  hay  !  "  said  the  Cockatrice  ;  "  or  grass. 
Does  the  world  contain  any  grass  ?  " 

Beppo  went  out,  and  presently  returned  with  an 
armful.  Very  slowly  the  Cockatrice  began  munch- 
ing the  fresh  fodder,  and  Beppo,  intent  on  feeding 
him  back  to  life,  ran  to  and  fro  between  the  hill- 
side and  the  cavern  till  he  was  exhausted  and  could 
go  no  more.  He  sat  down  and  watched  the  Cocka- 
trice finish  his  meal. 

Presently,  when  the  monster  found  that  his  fodder 
was  at  an  end,  he  puckered  a  great  lid,  and  far  up 
aloft  in  the  wall  of  the  cave  flashed  out  a  green  eye. 

If  all  the  emeralds  in  the  world  were  gathered 
together,  they  might  shine  like  that ;  if  all  the 
glow-worms  came  up  out  of  the  fields  and  put  their 
tails  together,  they  might  make  as  great  an  orb  of 
fire.  All  the  cave  looked  as  green  as  grass  when 
the  eye  of  the  Cockatrice  lighted  on  it ;  and  Beppo, 
seeing  so  mighty  an  optic  turning  its  rays  on  him, 
felt  all  at  once  shrivelled  and  small,  and  very  weak 
at  the  knees. 

"  Oh,  Cockatrice,"  he  said,  in  a  monstrous  sad 
voice,  "  I  hope  I  haven't  hurt  you !  " 

170 


"  On  the  contrary,"  said  the  Cockatrice,  "  you 
have  done  me  much  good.  What  are  you  going 
to  do  with  me  now  ?  " 

"  /  do  with  you  ?  "  cried  Beppo,  astonished  at 
so  wild  a  possibility  offering  to  come  true.  "  I 
would  like  to  get  you  out,  of  course — but  can 
I?" 

"  I  would  like  that  dearly  also ! "  said  the 
Cockatrice. 

"  But  how  can  I  ?  "   inquired  Beppo. 

"  Keep  me  warm  and  feed  me/'  returned  the 
monster.  "  Presently  I  shall  be  able  to  find  out 
where  my  tail  is.  When  I  can  move  that  I  shall 
be  able  to  get  out." 

Beppo  undertook  whatever  the  Cockatrice  told 
him — it  was  so  grand  to  have  a  Cockatrice  of  his 
own.  But  it  was  a  hard  life,  stoking  up  fires  day 
and  night,  and  bringing  the  Cockatrice  the  fodder 
necessary  to  replenish  his  drowsy  being.  When 
Beppo  was  quite  tired  out  he  would  come  and  lay 
his  head  against  the  monster's  snout  :  and  the 
Cockatrice  would  open  a  benevolent  eye  and  look 
at  him  affectionately. 

"  Dear  Cockatrice,"  said  the  boy  one  day,  "  tell 
me  about  yourself,  and  how  you  lived  and  what 
the  world  was  like  when  you  were  free !  " 

"  Do  you  see  any  green  in  my  eye  ?  "  said  the 
Cockatrice. 

"  I  do,  indeed  !  "  said  Beppo.  "  I  never  saw 
anything  so  green  in  all  the  world." 

"  That's  all  right,  then  !  "  said  the  Cockatrice. 
"  Climb  up  and  look  in,  and  you  will  see  what  the 
world  was  like  when  I  was  young." 

171 


So  Beppo  climbed  and  scrambled,  and  slipped 
and  clung,  till  he  found  himself  on  the  margin  of 
a  wonderful  green  lake,  which  was  but  the  opening 
into  the  whole  eye  of  the  Cockatrice. 

And  as  soon  as  Beppo  looked,  he  had  lost  his 
heart  for  ever  to  the  world  he  saw  there.  It  was 
there,  quite  real  before  him  :  a  whole  world  full 
of  living  and  moving  things — the  world  before  the 
trouble  of  man  came  to  it. 

"  I  see  green  hills,  and  fields,  and  rocks,  and 
trees,"  cried  Beppo,  "  and  among  them  a  lot  of 
little  Cockatrices  are  playing  !  " 

"  They  were  my  brothers  and  sisters  ;  I  remember 
them,"  said  the  Cockatrice.  "  I  have  them  all  in 
my  mind's  eye.  Call  them — perhaps  they  will 
come  and  talk  to  you ;  you  will  find  them  very 
nice  and  friendly." 

"  They  are  too  far  off,"  said  Beppo,  "  they 
cannot  hear  me." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  murmured  the  Cockatrice,  "  memory 
is  a  wonderful  thing  !  " 

When  Beppo  came  down  again  he  was  quite 
giddy,  and  lost  in  wonder  and  joy  over  the  beautiful 
green  world  the  Cockatrice  had  shown  him.  "  I 
like  that  better  than  this !  "  said  he. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  Cockatrice.  "  But  perhaps, 
when  my  tail  gets  free,  I  shall  feel  better." 

One  morning  he  said  to  Beppo  :  "  I  do  really 
begin  to  feel  my  tail.  It  is  somewhere  away  down 
the  hill  yonder.  Go  and  look  out  for  me,  and  tell 
me  if  you  can  see  it  moving." 

So  Beppo  went  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and 
looked  out  towards  the  city,  over  all  the  rocks  and 

172 


ridges  and  goat-pastures  and  slopes  of  vine  that  lay 
between. 

Suddenly,  as  he  looked,  the  steeple  of  the  cathe- 
dral tottered,  and  down  fell  its  weathercock  and 
two  of  its  pinnacles,  and  half  the  chimneys  of  the 
town  snapped  off  their  tops.  All  that  distance 
away  Beppo  could  hear  the  terrified  screams  of  the 
inhabitants  as  they  ran  out  of  their  houses  in 
terror. 

"  I've  done  it !  "  cried  the  Cockatrice,  from 
within  the  cave. 

"  But  you  mustn't  do  that !  "  exclaimed  Beppo 
in  horror. 

"  Mustn't  do  what  ?  "   inquired  the  Cockatrice. 

"  You  mustn't  wag  your  tail !  You  don't  know 
what  you  are  doing  !  " 

"  Oh,  master  !  "  wailed  the  Cockatrice  ;  "  mayn't 
I  ?  For  the  first  time  this  thousand  years  I  have 
felt  young  again." 

Beppo  was  pale  and  trembling  with  agitation 
over  the  fearful  effects  of  that  first  tail-wagging. 
"  You  mustn't  feel  young  !  "  said  he. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  the  Cockatrice,  with  a 
piteous  wail. 

"  There  isn't  room  in  the  world  for  a  Cockatrice 
to  feel  young  nowadays,"  answered  Beppo  gravely. 

"  But,  dear  little  master  and  benefactor,"  cried 
the  Cockatrice,  "  what  did  you  wake  me  up  for  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Beppo,  terribly  per- 
plexed. "  I  wouldn't  have  done  it  had  I  known 
where  your  tail  was." 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  inquired  the  Cockatrice,  with 
great  interest. 

173 


"  It's  right  underneath  the  city  where  I  mean 
to  be  king,"  said  Beppo  ;  "  and  if  you  move  it  the 
city  will  come  down  ;  and  then  I  shall  have  nothing 
to  be  king  of." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Cockatrice  sadly ;  "  I  will 
wait ! " 

"  Wait  for  what  ?  "  thought  Beppo.  "  Waiting 
won't  do  any  good."  And  he  began  to  think  what 
he  must  do.  "  You  lie  quite  still !  "  said  he  to  the 
Cockatrice.  "  Go  to  sleep,  and  I  will  still  look 
after  you." 

"  Oh,  little  master,"  said  the  Cockatrice,  "  but 
it  is  difficult  to  go  to  sleep  when  the  delicious 
trouble  of  spring  is  in  one's  tail !  How  long  does 
this  city  of  yours  mean  to  stay  there  ?  I  am  so 
alive  that  I  find  it  hard  to  shut  an  eye !  " 

"  I  will  let  the  fires  that  keep  you  warm  go  down 
for  a  bit,"  said  Beppo,  "  and  you  mustn't  eat  so 
much  grass ;  then  you  will  feel  better,  and  your 
tail  will  be  less  of  an  anxiety." 

And  presently,  when  Beppo  had  let  the  fires 
which  warmed  him  get  low,  and  had  let  time  go 
by  without  bringing  him  any  fresh  fodder,  the 
Cockatrice  dozed  off  into  an  uneasy,  prehistoric 
slumber. 

Then  Beppo,  weeping  bitterly  over  his  treachery 
to  the  poor  beast  which  had  trusted  him,  raked 
open  the  fires  and  stamped  out  the  embers ;  and, 
leaving  the  poor  Cockatrice  to  get  cold,  ran  down 
the  hill  as  fast  as  he  could  to  the  city  he  had  saved 
— the  city  of  which  he  meant  to  be  king. 

He  had  been  away  a  good  many  days,  but  the 
boys  in  the  street  were  still  on  the  watch  for  him. 

'74 


He  told  them  how  he  had  saved  the  city  from  the 
earthquake ;  and  they  beat  him  from  the  city  gate 
to  his  father's  door.  He  told  his  own  father  how 
he  had  saved  the  city ;  and  his  father  beat  him 
from  his  own  door  to  the  city  gate.  Nobody  be- 
lieved him. 

He  lay  outside  the  town  walls  till  it  was  dark, 
all  smarting  with  his  aches  and  pains ;  then,  when 
nobody  could  see  him,  he  got  up  and  very  miserably 
made  his  way  back  to  the  cave  on  the  hill.  And 
all  the  way  he  said  to  himself,  "  Shall  I  put  fire 
under  the  Cockatrice  once  more,  and  make  him 
shake  the  town  into  ruins  ?  Would  not  that  be 
fine  ?  " 

Inside,  the  cave  was  quite  still  and  cold,  and 
when  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  Cockatrice  he  could 
not  feel  any  stir  or  warmth  in  its  bones.  Yet  when 
he  called,  the  Cockatrice  just  opened  a  slit  of  his 
green  eye  and  looked  at  him  with  trust  and  affec- 
tion. 

"  Dear  Cockatrice,"  cried  Beppo,  "  forgive  me 
for  all  the  wrong  I  have  done  you !  "  And  as  he 
clambered  his  way  towards  the  green  light,  a  great 
tear  rolled  from  under  the  heavy  lid  and  flowed 
past  him  like  a  cataract. 

"  Dear  Cockatrice,"  cried  Beppo  again  when  he 
stood  on  the  margin  of  the  green  lake,  "  take  me  to 
sleep  with  you  in  the  land  where  the  Cockatrices 
are  at  play,  and  keep  quite  still  with  your  tail !  " 

Slowly  and  painfully  the  Cockatrice  opened  his 
eye  enough  to  let  Beppo  slip  through ;  and  Beppo 
saw  the  green  world  with  its  playful  cockatrices 
waiting  to  welcome  him.  Then  the  great  eyelid 

175 


shut  down  fast,  and  the  waking  days  of  the  Cocka- 
trice were  over.  And  Beppo's  native  town  lay  safe, 
because  he  had  learned  from  the  Cockatrice  to  be 
patient  and  gentle,  and  had  gone  to  be  king  of  a 
green  world  where  everything  was  harmless. 


THE  GREEN  BIRD 

THERE  was  once  a  Prince  whose  palace  lay 
in  the  midst  of  a  wonderful  garden.  From 
gate  to  gate  was  a  day's  journey,  where 
spring,  summer,  and  autumn  stayed  captive ;  for 
warm  streams  flowed,  bordering  its  ways,  through 
marble  conduits,  and  warm  winds,  driven  by  brazen 
fans,  blew  over  it  out  of  great  furnaces  that  were 
kept  alive  through  the  cold  of  winter.  And  day  by 
day,  when  no  sun  shone  in  heaven,  a  ball  of  golden 
fire  rose  from  the  palace  roof  and  passed  down  to 
the  west,  sustained  invisibly  in  mid-air,  and  giving 
light  and  warmth  to  the  flowers  below.  And  after 
it  by  night  went  a  lamp  of  silver  flame,  that  changed 
its  quarters  as  the  moon  changes  hers  in  heaven,  and 
threw  a  silver  light  over  the  lawns  and  the  flowered 
avenues. 

All  these  things  were  that  the  Prince  might  have 
delight  and  beauty  ever  around  him.  To  his  eyes 
summer  was  perpetual,  without  end,  and  nothing 
died  save  to  give  out  new  life  on  the  morrow.  So 
through  many  morrows  he  lived,  and  trod  the  beauti- 
ful soft  ways  devised  for  him  by  cunning  hands,  and 
did  not  know  that  there  was  winter,  or  cold,  or 
hunger  to  be  borne  in  the  world,  for  he  never  crossed 
the  threshold  of  his  enchanted  garden,  but  stayed 
lapped  in  the  luxury  of  its  bright  colours  and  soft 
airs. 

One  day  he  was  standing  by  a  bed  of  large  white 
bell- lilies.  Their  great  bowls  were  full  of  water,  and 

M  177 


inside  among  the  yellow  stamens  gold  fish  went 
darting  to  and  fro.  While  he  watched  he  saw, 
mirrored  in  the  water,  the  breast  of  a  green  bird 
flying  towards  the  trees  of  the  garden. 

It  had  come  from  a  far  country  surely,  for  its 
shape  and  colour  were  strange  to  him ;  and  the 
most  curious  thing  of  all  was  that  it  carried  its  nest 
in  its  beak. 

Its  flight  came  keen  as  a  sword's  edge  through 
those  bowery  spaces,  till  its  wings  closed  with  a 
shock  that  sent  the  golden  fruit  tumbling  from 
the  branches  where  it  had  lodged :  and  through 
the  whole  garden  went  a  crashing  sound  as  of  soft 
thunder. 

The  Prince  waited  long,  hoping  to  hear  the  bird 
sing,  but  it  hid  itself  silently  among  the  thickest  of 
the  leaves,  and  never  moved  or  uttered  a  sound.  He 
went  back  to  the  palace  a  little  sorry  not  to  have 
heard  the  green  bird  sing ;  "  But,  at  least,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "  I  shall  hear  it  to-morrow." 

That  night  he  dreamed  that  something  came  and 
tapped  at  his  heart ;  and  that  his  heart  tapped  back 
saying,  "  Go  away,  for  if  I  let  you  in  there  will  be 


sorrow 


l  " 


In  the  morning  on  the  window-sill  he  saw  a  green 
feather  lying ;  but  as  he  opened  the  window  a  puff 
of  wind  lifted  it,  and  carried  it  high  up  into  the  air 
and  out  of  sight. 

All  that  day  the  Prince  saw  nothing  of  the  Green 
Bird,  nor  heard  a  note  of  its  singing.  "  Strange," 
thought  he  to  himself,  "  I  have  never  heard  its  song  ; 
yet  I  know  quite  well  somehow  that  it  sings  most 
beautifully."  At  dusk,  when  the  lilies  began  to 


close  their  globes  around  the  gold  fish  and  the  yellow 
stamens,  he  went  back  to  the  palace,  and  before  long 
to  bed,  and  slept. 

Once  more  he  heard  in  dreams  someone  come 
tapping  at  his  heart,  and  this  time  his  heart  said, 
"  Who  is  there  ?  "  Then  a  voice  answered  back, 
"  The  Green  Bird  "  ;  but  his  heart  said,  "  Go  away, 
for  if  I  let  you  in  there  will  be  sorrow  ?  " 

Now  it  had  been  foretold  of  the  Prince  at  his  birth 
that  if  he  ever  knew  sorrow,  his  wealth,  and  his  estate, 
and  his  power  would  all  go  from  him.  Therefore 
from  his  childhood  he  had  been  shut  up  in  a  beauti- 
ful palace  with  miles  and  miles  of  enchanted  gardens, 
so  that  sorrow  might  not  get  near  him  ;  and  it  was 
said  that  if  ever  sorrow  came  to  him  the  palace  and  the 
enchanted  gardens  would  suddenly  fall  into  ruin 
and  disappear,  and  he  would  be  left  standing  alone 
to  beg  his  way  through  the  world.  Therefore  it 
was  for  this  that  his  heart  said  in  his  dream,  "  Go 
away,  for  if  I  let  you  in  there  will  be  sorrow !  " 

In  the  morning  a  green  feather  lay  on  the  window- 
sill  ;  but  as  he  opened  the  window  the  wind  took  it 
up  and  carried  it  away. 

So  the  next  night,  as  soon  as  his  attendants  were 
gone,  the  Prince  got  up  softly  and  opening  the  win- 
dow called  "  Green  Bird  !  " 

Then  all  at  once  he  felt  something  warm  against 
his  heart,  and  suddenly  his  heart  began  to  ache  :  and 
there  was  the  green  bird  with  its  wings  spread  gently 
about  him,  keeping  time  ever  so  softly  to  the  beating 
of  his  heart. 

Then  the  Prince  said,  "  Beautiful  Green  Bird, 
what  have  you  brought  me  ?  "  and  the  Green  Bird 

181 


answered,  "  I  have  brought  you  dreams  out  of  a 
far-off  country  of  things  you  never  saw ;  if  you 
will  come  and  sleep  in  my  nest  you  shall  dream 
them." 

So  the  Prince  went  out  by  the  window  and  along 
the  balcony,  and  so  away  into  the  garden  and  up 
into  the  heart  of  the  great  tree  where  the  Green 
Bird  had  its  nest.  There  he  lay  down,  and  the 
Green  Bird  spread  its  wings  over  him,  and  he  fell 
fast  asleep. 

Now  as  he  slept  he  dreamed  that  the  Green  Bird 
put  in  his  hand  three  grains  of  seed  saying,  "  Take 
these  and  keep  them  till  you  come  to  the  right  place 
to  sow  them  in.  And  so  soon  as  one  is  sown,  go  on 
till  you  come  to  the  place  where  the  next  must  be 
sown,  following  the  signs  which  I  shall  tell  you  of. 
Now  the  first  you  must  not  sow  till  you  find  yourself 
in  a  white  country,  where  the  trees  and  the  grass 
are  white."  (And  the  Prince  said  in  his  heart, 
"  Where  can  I  find  that  ?  ")  "  And  the  second  one 
you  must  not  sow  till  you  see  a  thing  like  a  tortoise 
put  out  a  small  white  hand."  ("  And  where,"  said 
the  Prince,  "  can  I  meet  with  that  wonder  ?  ") 
"  And  when  you  have  seen  the  second  sprout  up 
through  the  ground,  go  on  till  you  come  again  to  a 
land  you  had  lost  and  the  place  where  you  first  knew 
sorrow."  ("  And  what  is  sorrow  ?  "  said  the  Prince 
to  his  heart.)  "  Then  when  you  have  sown  the 
third  seed  and  watched  it  sprout  you  will  know 
perfect  happiness,  and  will  be  able  to  hear  the  song 
which  I  sing  " 

Then  the  Green  Bird  lifted  its  wings  and  flew 
away  through  the  night ;  and  out  of  the  darkness 

182 


came  three  notes  that  filled  the  Prince  with  wonder- 
ful delight. 

But  afterwards,  when  they  ceased,  came  sorrow. 

Now,  when  the  Prince  woke  he  was  in  his  own  bed ; 
and  he  rose  much  puzzled  by  the  dream  which  had 
seemed  so  true.  Then  there  came  to  him  one  of 
his  pages  who  said,  "  There  was  a  strange  bird  flying 
over  the  palace  about  dawn,  and  a  watchman  on 
the  high  tower  shot  it ;  so  I  have  brought  it 
for  you  to  see."  And  as  he  spoke,  the  page 
showed  him  the  Green  Bird  lying  dead  between 
his  hands. 

The  Prince  took  it  without  a  word,  and  kissed  it 
before  them  all,  afterwards  burying  it  where  the 
white  lilies  full  of  gold  fishes  grew,  wherein  he  had 
first  seen  the  image  of  its  green  breast  fly.  And 
as  he  stood  sorrowing,  the  garden  faded  before 
his  eyes,  and  a  cold  wind  blew ;  and  the  palace 
which  had  its  foundations  on  happiness  crumbled 
away  into  ruin  ;  and  heaven  came  down  kissing  the 
earth  and  making  it  white. 

He  opened  his  hand  and  found  in  it  three  grains 
of  seed,  and  then  he  knew  that  some  of  his  dream 
was  really  coming  to  pass.  For  he  saw  the  whole 
world  was  turning  white  before  his  eyes,  all  the  trees 
and  the  grass ;  therefore  he  sowed  the  first  grain  of 
seed  over  the  little  grave  that  he  had  made,  and  set 
out  over  hill  and  dale  to  fulfil  the  dream  that  the 
Green  Bird  had  given  him.  "  But  the  Green  Bird 
I  shall  see  no  more !  "  he  said,  and  wept. 

For  a  year  he  went  on  through  a  waste  and 
desolate  country,  meeting  no  man,  nor  discovering 
any  sign.  Till  one  day  as  he  was  coming  down  a  moun- 


tain  he  saw  at  the  bottom  a  hut  with  a  round  roof 
like  a  great  tortoise ;  and  when  he  got  quite  near, 
out  of  the  door  came  a  small  white  hand,  palm  up- 
ward, feeling  to  know  if  it  rained.  All  at  once  he 
remembered  the  word  of  the  Green  Bird,  and  as  he 
dropped  the  second  seed  into  the  ground  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  heard  again  the  three  notes  of  its 
song. 

A  young  girl  looked  out  of  the  hut ;  "  What  do 
you  want  ?  "  she  said  when  she  saw  the  Prince.  He 
saw  her  eyes,  how  blue  and  smiling  they  were,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  he  had  dreamed  of  them  once.  "  Let 
me  stay  here  for  a  little,"  he  said,  "  and  rest."  "  If 
you  will  rest  one  day  and  work  the  next,  you  may," 
she  answered.  So  he  rested  that  day,  and  the  next 
he  worked  at  her  bidding  in  a  small  patch  of  ground 
that  was  before  the  hut. 

When  the  day  was  over  and  he  had  returned  to 
the  hut  for  the  night,  he  looked  again  at  the  young 
girl,  and  seeing  how  beautiful  she  was,  said,  "  Why 
are  you  here  all  alone,  with  no  one  to  protect  you  ?  J: 
And  she  answered,  "  I  have  come  from  my  own 
country,  which  is  very  far  away,  in  search  of  a  beauti- 
ful Green  Bird  which  while  it  was  mine  I  loved 
greatly,  and  which  one  day  flew  away  promising  to 
return.  When  you  came,  something  made  me  think 
the  bird  was  with  you,  but  perhaps  to-morrow  it 
will  return^  At  that  the  Prince  sighed  in  his  heart, 
for  he  knew  that  the  bird  was  dead.  Then  also  she 
told  him  how  in  her  own  country  she  had  been  a 
Princess ;  so  now  she  from  whom  the  Green  Bird 
had  flown,  and  he  to  whom  it  had  come,  were  living 
there  together  like  beggars  in  a  hut. 

184 


For  a  whole  year  he  toiled  and  waited,  hoping  for 
the  second  seed  to  sprout ;  and  at  last  one  day,  just 
where  he  had  planted  it,  he  saw  a  little  spring  rising 
out  of  the  ground.  When  the  Princess  saw  it,  she 
clapped  her  hands,  "  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  it  is  the  sign 
I  have  waited  for !  If  we  follow  it,  it  will  take  us 
to  the  Green  Bird."  But  the  Prince  sighed,  for  in 
his  heart  he  knew  that  the  Green  Bird  was  dead. 

Yet  he  let  her  take  his  hand,  and  they  two  went 
on  following  the  course  of  the  spring  till  they  came 
to  a  wild  desolate  place  full  of  ruins  ;  and  as  soon  as 
they  came  to  it  the  spring  disappeared  into  the 
ground. 

Then  the  Prince  began  to  look  about  him,  and  saw 
that  he  was  standing  once  more  in  the  land  that  he 
had  lost,  above  the  very  spot  in  the  enchanted  garden 
where  he  had  buried  the  Green  Bird  and  sorrowed 
over  it.  Then  he  stooped  down,  and  set  the  last 
grain  of  seed  into  the  ground  ;  and  as  he  did  so,  surely 
from  below  the  soil  came  the  three  sweet  notes  of  a 
song !  Then  all  at  once  the  earth  opened  and  out 
of  it  grew  a  tree,  tall  and  green  and  waving,  and  out 
of  the  midst  of  the  tree  flew  the  Green  Bird  with  its 
nest  in  its  beak. 

The  sun  was  setting ;  in  the  east  rose  a  full  red 
moon  :  grey  mists  climbed  out  of  the  grass.  The 
Bird  sang  and  sang  and  sang ;  every  note  had  the 
splendour  of  palace-walls  and  towers^and  gardens, 
and  falling  fountains.  The  Princess  ran  fast  and 
let  herself  be  caught  in  the  Prince's  arms  while  she 
listened. 

Many  times  they  hung  together  and  kissed,  and 
all  the  time  the  Bird  sang  on. 


"  I  see  the  palace  walls  grow,"  said  the  Princess. 
"  They  are  high  as  the  hills,  and  the  garden  covers 
the  valleys  :  and  the  sun  and  the  moon  lighten  it." 
And,  in  truth,  round  them  a  new  palace  had  grown, 
and  the  Green  Bird  was  building  his  nest  in  the  roof. 


186 


THE   MAN   WHO   KILLED   THE   CUCKOO 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  man  who  lived 
in  a  small  house  with  a  large  garden.  He 
made  his  living  by  gardening,  while  his  wife 
looked  after  the  house.  They  were  better  oil  than 
most  of  their  neighbours,  but  they  were  an  envious 
couple  who  looked  sourly  over  the  hedge  at  all 
who  passed  by,  and  took  no  man's  advice  about 
anything. 

At  the  end  of  the  garden  stood  a  large  pear- 
tree  :  and  one  day  the  man  was  working  in  the 
shade  beneath  it,  when  a  cuckoo  came  and  perched 
itself  on  the  topmost  branch,  crying  "  Cuckoo, 
cuckoo  !  " 

The  man  looked  up  with  a  frown  on  his  face, 
and  cried,  "  Get  out  of  my  tree,  you  noisy  thing !  " 
But  the  cuckoo  only  sat  and  stared  at  the  land- 
scape, going  up  and  down  on  its  two  notes  like  a 
musical  see-saw. 

The  man  stooped  down,  and  took  up  a  clod  of 
earth  and  cast  it  at  the  cuckoo,  which  immediately 
flew  away. 

A  neighbour  who  was  passing  at  the  time  saw  him, 
and  said,  "  It's  ill-luck  to  drive  away  cuckoos  :  you 
would  be  better  not  to  do  it  again."  "  Do  it 
again  ?  "  cried  the  man.  "  If  it  comes  into  my  tree 
again  I'll  kill  it !  "  "  Nobody  dares  kill  a  cuckoo ;  " 
replied  the  neighbour,  "  it's  against  Providence." 
"  I'll  not  only  kill  it,  if  it  returns,"  exclaimed  the 
man  in  a  fury,  "  but  I'll  eat  it  too  !  "  "  No,  no," 

187 


cried  his  neighbour,  "  you  will  think  better  of  it. 
Even  the  parson  daren't  kill  a  cuckoo."  "  Wait  and 
see  if  I  don't  better  the  parson,  then  !  "  growled  the 
man,  as  he  turned  to  go  on  with  his  work ;  "just 
wait  and  see  !  " 

All  the  day  he  heard  the  cuckoo  crying  about  in 
the  field,  now  here,  now  there,  but  always  somewhere 
close  at  hand.  It  seemed  to  be  making  a  mock  of 
him,  for  it  always  kept  within  sound,  but  never 
returned  to  the  tree.  When  he  left  off  work  for  the 
day,  he  went  into  the  house  and  grumbled  to  his  wife 
about  that  everlasting  cuckoo.  "  Did  you  see  what 
a  big  one  it  was  ?  "  said  his  wife.  "  I  saw  it  as  it  sat 
in  our  tree  this  morning."  "  It  will  make  all  the 
bigger  pie  then,"  said  the  man,  "  if  it  comes 
again." 

The  next  morning  he  had  hardly  begun  to  work, 
when  the  bird  came  and  settled  on  the  pear-tree 
over  his  head,  and  shouted  "  Cuckoo  !  " 

Then  the  man  took  up  a  great  stone,  which  he  had 
by  him  ready,  and  aimed  with  all  his  might ;  his  aim 
was  so  true,  that  the  stone  hit  the  bird  on  the  side 
of  the  head,  so  that  it  fell  down  out  of  the  tree  into 
the  grass  in  front  of  his  feet. 

"  Wife,"  he  shouted,  "  I've  killed  the  cuckoo  ! 
Come  and  carry  it  in,  and  cook  it  for  my  dinner." 
"  Oh,  what  a  great  fat  one !  "  cried  his  wife,  as  she 
ran  and  picked  it  up  by  the  neck ;  "  and  heavy ! 
It  feels  as  heavy  as  a  turkey  !  " 

She  laid  it  in  her  apron,  and  went  and  sat  in  the 
doorway,  and  began  plucking  it,  while  her  husband 
went  on  with  his  work.  Presently  she  called  to  him, 
"  Just  look  here  at  all  these  feathers !  I  never  saw 

188 


anything  like  it ;  there  are  enough  to  stuff  a  feather- 
bed !  "  He  looked  round,  and  saw  the  ground  all 
covered  with  a  great  heap  of  feathers  that  had  been 
plucked  from  the  bird  :  enough,  as  she  said,  for  a 
feather-bed. 

"  This  is  a  new  discovery,"  cried  he,  "  that  a 
cuckoo  holds  so  many  feathers.  We  can  make  our 
fortunes  in  this  way,  wife — I  going  about  killing 
cuckoos,  and  you  plucking  them  into  feather- 
beds." 

Then  his  wife  carried  the  cuckoo  indoors,  and  set 
it  down  to  roast.  But  directly  the  spit  began  to 
turn,  the  cat  jumped  up  from  before  the  front  of 
the  fire,  and  ran  away  screaming. 

The  smell  of  the  roast  came  out  to  the  man  as  he 
worked  in  his  garden.  "  How  good  it  smells !  " 
said  he.  "  Don't  you  touch  it,  wife  !  You  mustn't 
have  a  bit !  "  "I  don't  care  if  I  don't,"  she 
replied  :  for  she  had  watched  it  as  it  went  turning 
on  the  spit ;  and  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  it 
kept  moving  its  wings ! 

When  dinner-time  came  the  man  sat  down,  and 
his  wife  dished  up  the  bird,  and  set  it  upon  the  table 
before  him.  He  ate  it  so  greedily  that  he  ate  it  all — 
the  bones,  and  the  back,  and  the  head,  and  the  wings, 
and  the  legs  down  to  the  last  claw. 

Then  he  pushed  back  his  plate,  and  cried,  "  So 
there's  an  end  of  him  !  "  But  just  as  he  was  about 
saying  that,  a  voice  from  inside  of  him  called, 
"  Cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !  " 

"  Oh  my  heart  and  liver ! "  cried  the  man. 
"  What's  that !  " 

Then  his  wife  began  laughing  and  jiggering  at 

189 


him.  "  It's  because  you  were  so  greedy.  If  you 
had  given  me  half  of  that  cuckoo  this  wouldn't  have 
happened.  Now  you  see  you  are  paid." 

"  Cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !  "  cried  the  voice 
again  from  within. 

"  What  have  I  done  to  myself  ?  "  cried  the  man, 
in  an  agony  of  terror.  "  What  a  poisonous  noise 
to  come  from  a  man's  belly !  I  shall  die  of  it,  I 
know  I  shall !  " 

His  wife  only  said,  "  See,  then,  what  comes  of 
being  greedy." 

He  got  up  on  to  his  feet,  and  looked  down  at  his 
empty  plate  :  there  was  not  a  scrap  left  on  it.  Then 
he  put  his  hands  to  his  sides,  and  shrieked,  "  I  feel 
as  if  a  windmill  were  turning  round  inside  me  ! 
And  I'm  so  light !  Wife,  hold  me  down — I'm  going 
off  my  feet !  "  And  as  he  spoke,  he  swung  sideway, 
and  began  rising  with  a  wobbling  motion  into  the  air. 
His  wife  caught  him  by  the  head,  while  his  feet  swung 
like  the  pendulum  of  a  clock,  and  all  the  time  a  voice 
inside  him  kept  calling,  "  Cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !  cuckoo  ! 
cuckoo !  " 

Presently  it  seemed  to  the  unfortunate  man  as  if 
the  windmill  had  stopped,  and  he  was  able  to  strike 
the  ground  with  his  feet  once  more.  "  Oh,  blessed 
Mother  Earth !  "  he  cried,  and  began  rubbing  it 
up  and  down  with  his  feet,  and  caressing  it  as  if  it 
had  been  a  pet  animal.  But  his  face  had  grown  very 
white. 

"  Put  me  to  bed,"  he  said  to  his  wife  ;  and  she  put 
him  to  bed  on  the  top  of  the  great  feather-mattress 
which  she  had  made  only  that  morning  from  the 
cuckoo-pluckings. 

190 


The  cuckoo  kept  him  awake  far  into  the  night, 
and  his  wife  herself  could  get  no  sleep  ;  but  towards 
morning  he  dozed  off  into  a  disturbed  sort  of 
slumber,  and  began  to  dream. 

He  felt  his  eyes  turning  inwards,  so  that  he  could 
see  into  the  middle  of  his  body.  And  there  sat  the 
cuckoo,  like  an  unpleasant  nestling,  with  great  red 
eyes  staring  at  him,  and  the  wound  on  its  head  burn- 
ing a  blue  flame.  It  seemed  to  grow  and  grow  and 
grow,  dislocating  his  bones,  and  thrusting  aside  his 
heart  to  make  room  for  itself.  Its  wings  seemed  to 
be  sawing  out  his  ribs,  and  its  head  was  pushed  far 
up  into  his  throat,  where  with  its  angry  beak  it 
seemed  reaching  to  peck  out  his  eyes.  "  I  will 
torment  you  for  ever,"  said  the  bird.  "  You  shall 
have  no  peace  until  you  let  me  go.  I  am  the  King 
of  the  Cuckoos ;  I  will  give  you  no  rest.  You  will 
be  surprised  at  what  I  can  do  to  you  ;  even  in  your 
despair  you  will  be  surprised."  Then  it  drew  down 
its  head  and  pecked  his  heart,  so  that  he  woke  in 
great  pain.  And  as  his  eyes  turned  outwards  he  saw 
that  it  was  morning. 

"  Wife,"  he  said,  before  going  out,  "  I  feel  as 
though,  if  I  went  out,  I  might  be  carried  away,  like 
a  worm  in  a  bird's  beak.  Fasten  a  chain  round  me, 
and  drive  it  with  a  stake  into  the  ground,  and  let  me 
see  if  so  I  be  able  to  work  safely  in  my  garden." 

So  his  wife  did  as  he  told  her  ;  but  whenever  he 
caught  hold  of  a  spade  the  bird  lifted  him  off  his 
feet,  so  that  he  could  not  drive  it  into  the  ground. 
He  wrung  his  hands  and  wailed,  "  Alas,  alas !  now 
my  occupation  is  gone,  and  my  wife  and  I  shall  be- 
come beggars !  " 


The  villagers  came  and  looked  over  the  hedge, 
wagging  their  heads.  "  Ah,  you  are  the  man  who 
killed  the  cuckoo  yesterday  !  and  already  you  are 
come  to  this !  " 

Every  day  things  got  worse  and  worse.  His  wife 
used  to  have  to  hold  him  down  and  feed  him  with 
a  spoon,  for  if  he  took  up  a  knife  to  eat  with,  the  bird 
hurled  him  upon  it  so  violently  as  to  put  him  in 
danger  of  his  life.  Also  it  kept  him  ceaselessly  awake 
with  its  cry,  so  that  he  was  worn  to  a  shadow. 

One  day  in  the  end  of  the  month  of  June  he  heard 
a  change  come  in  its  horrible  singing ;  instead  of 
crying  "  Cuckoo  "  as  before,  it  now  broke  its  note  as 
is  the  cuckoo's  habit  to  do  before  it  goes  abroad  for 
the  winter,  and  cried  "  Cuck-cuck-Cuckoo,  cuck- 
cuck-Cuckoo  !  "  Some  sort  of  a  hope  came  into  the 
man's  heart  at  that.  "  Presently  it  will  be  winter," 
he  thought  to  himself,  "  and  the  cuckoo  must  die 
then,  even  if  I  have  to  eat  ice  and  snow  to  make  him  ! 
if  only  I  do  not  die  first,"  he  added,  and  groaned,  for 
he  was  now  indeed  but  a  shadow. 

Soon  after  this  the  cuckoo  left  off  its  crying  alto- 
gether. "  Is  he  dead  already  ?  "  thought  the  man. 
All  the  other  cuckoos  had  gone  out  of  the  country  : 
he  grew  quite  happy  with  this  new  idea  and  began 
to  put  on  flesh. 

But  one  night,  at  the  dead  of  night,  the  cuckoo 
felt  a  longing  to  be  in  lands  oversea  come  into  its 
wings.  The  man  woke  with  a  loud  cry,  and  found 
himself  sailing  along  through  the  air  with  only  the 
stars  overhead,  and  the  feeling  of  a  great  windmill 
inside  him.  And  the  cuckoo  was  crying  with  a  new 
note  into  the  darkness :  the  cry  it  makes  in  far  lands 

192 


N 


oversea  which  is  never  heard  in  this  country  at  all : 
a  cry  so  strange  and  terrible  and  wonderful  that  we 
have  no  word  that  will  give  the  sound  of  it.  This 
man  heard  it,  and  at  the  sound  his  hair  went  quite 
white  with  fright. 

When  his  wife  woke  up  in  the  morning,  her  hus- 
band was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  "  So  !  "  she  said  to 
herself,  "  the  cuckoo  has  picked  him  up  and  thrown 
him  away  somewhere ;  and  I  suppose  he  is  dead. 
Well,  he  was  an  uncomfortable  husband  to  have ; 
and  it  all  came  of  being  greedy." 

She  drew  down  the  front  blinds,  and  dressed  herself 
in  widow's  mourning  all  through  the  winter ;  and 
the  next  spring  told  another  man  he  might  marry 
her  if  he  liked.  The  other  man  happened  to  like 
the  idea  well  enough,  for  there  was  a  house  and  a  nice 
garden  for  anyone  who  would  have  her.  So  the 
first  fine  day  they  went  off  to  the  Parson  and  got 
married. 

It  was  a  very  fine  day,  and  well  on  in  spring  : 
and  just  as  they  were  coming  back  from  the  church 
they  heard  the  note  of  a  cuckoo. 

The  widow- bride  felt  a  cold  shiver  go  down  her 
marrow.  "  It  does  make  one  feel  queer,"  she  said  ; 
"  that  sound  gave  me  quite  a  turn."  "  Hullo  ! 
look  at  him  up  there ! "  cried  the  man.  She 
stared  up,  and  there  was  her  husband  sailing  through 
the  air,  looking  more  of  a  shadow  than  ever,  and  very 
miserable  with  the  voice  of  the  cuckoo  calling  across 
the  land  from  the  inside  of  him. 

The  cuckoo  deposited  him  at  his  own  doorstep  in 
front  of  the  bridal  couple. 

"  O  you  miserable  scare-crow !  "  said  his  wife, 

195 


"  whatever  brought  you  back  ?  "  The  unhappy 
man  pointed  below  the  surface,  and  the  shut-up 
cuckoo  spoke  for  him. 

"  And  here  I  find  you  marrying  yourself  to  an- 
other !  "  cried  her  returned  spouse  :  but  the  other 
man  had  shrunk  away  in  disgust  and  disappeared,  so 
there  was  no  more  trouble  with  him. 

But  the  old  trouble  was  as  bad  as  ever,  the  cuckoo 
was  just  as  industrious  in  his  cuckooings,  and  just 
as  untimely  :  and  the  man  went  on  wearing  himself 
to  a  shadow  with  vexation  and  grief. 

So  all  the  summer  went  by,  till  again  the  cuckoo 
was  heard  to  break  its  note  into  a  double  sound. 
But  this  time,  no  glimmer  of  hope  came  to  the  man's 
mind.  "  Tie  me  fast  to  the  bed,"  he  said  sorrow- 
fully to  his  wife,  "  and  keep  me  there,  lest  this  demon 
of  a  bird  carry  me  away  again  as  he  did  last  year  ;  a 
thing  which  I  could  never  survive  a  second  time. 
Nay,  give  me  a  sheath-knife  to  keep  always  with  me, 
for  if  he  carry  me  away  again  I  am  resolved  that  he 
or  I  shall  die." 

So  his  wife  gave  him  the  sheath-knife,  and  by-and- 
by  the  bird  became  very  quiet,  so  that  they  almost 
hoped  he  was  dead  from  old  age. 

But  one  night,  at  the  dead  of  night,  into  the 
birds  wings  came  the  longing  to  be  once  more  in 
lands  oversea.  He  stretched  out  his  wings,  and  the 
man  woke  with  a  loud  cry.  And  behold,  there  were 
he  and  his  wife,  sailing  along  under  the  stars  tied 
into  the  feather-bed  together,  all  complete  and  com- 
pact ;  and  inside  him  was  the  feeling  of  a  great  wind- 
mill going  round  and  round  and  round. 

Then  in  despair  he  drew  out  his  sheath-knife  and 

196 


cut  himself  open  like  a  haggis.  And  on  a  sudden  out 
flew  the  cuckoo,  all  plucked  and  bald  and  ready  to 
roast.  At  the  very  same  moment  the  bed-ticking 
burst,  and  away  went  the  cuckoo  with  his  feathers 
trailing  after  him,  uttering  through  the  darkness 
that  strange  terrible  cry  of  the  lands  oversea. 

But  the  man  and  his  wife  and  the  empty  bed- 
ticking,  they  fell  and  they  fell  and  they  fell  right 
down,  till  they  got  to  the  bottom  of  the  deep  blue 
sea  ;  and  there  was  an  end  of  them. 


197 


A  CHINESE  FAIRY  TALE 

TIKI-PU  was  a  small  grub  of  a  thing ;  but  he 
had  a  true  love  of  Art  deep  down  in  his  soul. 
There  it  hung  mewing  and  complaining, 
struggling  to  work  its  way  out  through  the  raw 
exterior  that  bound  it. 

Tiki-pu's  master  professed  to  be  an  artist :  he 
had  apprentices  and  students,  who  came  daily  to 
work  under  him,  and  a  large  studio  littered  about 
with  the  performances  of  himself  and  his  pupils. 
On  the  walls  hung  also  a  few  real  works  by  the  older 
men,  all  long  since  dead. 

This  studio  Tiki-pu  swept ;  for  those  who  worked 
in  it  he  ground  colours,  washed  brushes,  and  ran 
errands,  bringing  them  their  dog  chops  and  bird's 
nest  soup  from  the  nearest  eating-house  whenever 
they  were  too  busy  to  go  out  to  it  themselves.  He 
himself  had  to  feed  mainly  on  the  breadcrumbs 
which  the  students  screwed  into  pellets  for  their 
drawings  and  then  threw  about  upon  the  floor.  It 
was  on  the  floor,  also,  that  he  had  to  sleep  at  night. 
Tiki-pu  looked  after  the  blinds,  and  mended  the 
paper  window-panes,  which  were  often  broken  when 
the  apprentices  threw  their  brushes  and  mahl-sticks 
at  him.  Also  he  strained  rice-paper  over  the  linen- 
stretchers,  ready  for  the  painters  to  work  on  ;  and 
for  a  treat,  now  and  then,  a  lazy  one  would  allow  him 
to  mix  a  colour  for  him.  Then  it  was  that  Tiki-pu's 
soul  came  down  into  his  finger-tips,  and  his  heart 
beat  so  that  he  gasped  for  joy.  Oh,  the  yellows  and 

198 


the  greens,  and  the  lakes  and  the  cobalts,  and  the 
purples  which  sprang  from  the  blending  of  them ! 
Sometimes  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  keep  himself 
from  crying  out. 

Tiki-pu,  while  he  squatted  and  ground  at  the 
colour-powders,  would  listen  to  his  master  lecturing 
to  the  students.  He  knew  by  heart  the  names  of 
all  the  painters  and  their  schools,  and  the  name 
of  the  great  leader  of  them  all  who  had  lived  and 
passed  from  their  midst  more  than  three  hundred 
years  ago  ;  he  knew  that  too,  a  name  like  the  sound 
of  the  wind,  Wio-wani :  the  big  picture  at  the  end 
of  the  studio  was  by  him. 

That  picture !  To  Tiki-pu  it  seemed  worth  all 
the  rest  of  the  world  put  together,  He  knew,  too, 
the  story  which  was  told  of  it,  making  it  as  holy  to 
his  eyes  as  the  tombs  of  his  own  ancestors.  The 
apprentices  joked  over  it,  calling  it  "  Wio-wani's 
back-door,"  "  Wio-wani's  night-cap,"  and  many 
other  nicknames ;  but  Tiki-pu  was  quite  sure,  since 
the  picture  was  so  beautiful,  that  the  story  must  be 
true. 

Wio-wani,  at  the  end  of  a  long  life,  had  painted 
it ;  a  garden  full  of  trees  and  sunlight,  with  high- 
standing  flowers  and  green  paths,  and  in  their  midst 
a  palace.  "  The  place  where  I  would  like  to  rest," 
said  Wio-wani,  when  it  was  finished. 

So  beautiful  was  it  then,  that  the  Emperor  himself 
had  come  to  see  it ;  and  gazing  enviously  at  those 
peaceful  walks,  and  the  palace  nestling  among  the 
trees,  had  sighed  and  owned  that  he  too  would  be 
glad  of  such  a  resting-place.  Then  Wio-wani  stepped 
into  the  picture,  and  walked  away  along  a  path  till 

199 


he  came,  looking  quite  small  and  far-off,  to  a  low 
door  in  the  palace  wall.  Opening  it,  he  turned  and 
beckoned  to  the  Emperor ;  but  the  Emperor  did 
not  follow ;  so  Wio-wani  went  in  by  himself,  and 
shut  the  door  between  himself  and  the  world  for 
ever. 

That  happened  three  hundred  years  ago ;  but 
for  Tiki-pu  the  story  was  as  fresh  and  true  as  if  it 
had  happened  yesterday.  When  he  was  left  to  him- 
self in  the  studio,  all  alone  and  locked  up  for  the 
night,  Tiki-pu  used  to  go  and  stare  at  the  picture  till 
it  was  too  dark  to  see,  and  at  the  little  palace  with  the 
door  in  its  wall  by  which  Wio-wani  had  disappeared 
out  of  life.  Then  his  soul  would  go  down  into  his 
finger-tips,  and  he  would  knock  softly  and  fearfully 
at  the  beautifully  painted  door,  saying,  "  Wio-wani, 
are  you  there  ?  " 

Little  by  little  in  the  long- thinking  nights,  and  the 
slow  early  mornings  when  light  began  to  creep  back 
through  the  papered  windows  of  the  studio,  Tiki- 
pu's  soul  became  too  much  for  him.  He  who  could 
strain  paper,  and  grind  colours,  and  wash  brushes, 
had  everything  within  reach  for  becoming  an  artist, 
if  it  was  the  will  of  Fate  that  he  should  be  one. 

He  began  timidly  at  first,  but  in  a  little  while  he 
grew  bold.  With  the  first  wash  of  light  he  was  up 
from  his  couch  on  the  hard  floor  and  was  daubing 
his  soul  out  on  scraps,  and  odds-and-ends,  and  stolen 
pieces  of  rice-paper. 

Before  long  the  short  spell  of  daylight  which 
lay  between  dawn  and  the  arrival  of  the  apprentices 
to  their  work  did  not  suffice  him.  It  took  him  so 
long  to  hide  all  traces  of  his  doings,  to  wash  out  the 

200 


brushes,  and  rinse  clean  the  paint-pots  he  had  used, 
and  on  the  top  of  that  to  get  the  studio  swept  and 
dusted,  that  there  was  hardly  time  left  him  in  which 
to  indulge  the  itching  of  his  fingers. 

Driven  by  necessity,  he  became  a  pilferer  of 
candle-ends,  picking  them  from  their  sockets  in  the 
lanterns  which  the  students  carried  on  dark  nights. 
Now  and  then  one  of  these  would  remember  that, 
when  last  used,  his  lantern  had  had  a  candle  in  it, 
and  would  accuse  Tiki-pu  of  having  stolen  it.  "  It 
is  true,"  he  would  confess ;  "  I  was  hungry — I  have 
eaten  it."  The  lie  was  so  probable,  he  was  believed 
easily,  and  was  well  beaten  accordingly.  Down  in 
the  ragged  linings  of  his  coat  Tiki-pu  could  hear  the 
candle-ends  rattling  as  the  buffeting  and  chastise- 
ment fell  upon  him,  and  often  he  trembled  lest  his 
hoard  should  be  discovered.  But  the  truth  of  the 
matter  never  leaked  out ;  and  at  night,  as  soon  as  he 
guessed  that  all  the  world  outside  was  in  bed,  Tiki- 
pu  would  mount  one  of  his  candles  on  a  wooden 
stand  and  paint  by  the  light  of  it,  blinding  himself 
over  his  task,  till  the  dawn  came  and  gave  him  a 
better  and  cheaper  light  to  work  by. 

Tiki-pu  quite  hugged  himself  over  the  results ; 
he  believed  he  was  doing  very  well.  "  If  only  Wio- 
wani  were  here  to  teach  me,"  thought  he,  "  I  would 
be  in  the  way  to  becoming  a  great  painter  !  " 

The  resolution  came  to  him  one  night  that  Wio- 
wani  should  teach  him.  So  he  took  a  large  piece  of 
rice-paper  and  strained  it,  and  sitting  down  opposite 
"  Wio-wani's  back-door,"  began  painting.  He  had 
never  set  himself  so  big  a  task  as  this ;  by  the  dim 
stumbling  light  of  his  candle  he  strained  his  eyes 

20 1 


nearly  blind  over  the  difficulties  of  it ;  and  at  last 
was  almost  driven  to  despair.  How  the  trees  stood 
row  behind  row,  with  air  and  sunlight  between,  and 
how  the  path  went  in  and  out,  winding  its  way  up 
to  the  little  door  in  the  palace-wall  were  mysteries 
he  could  not  fathom.  He  peered  and  peered  and 
dropped  tears  into  his  paint-pots ;  but  the  secret  of 
the  mystery  of  such  painting  was  far  beyond  him. 

The  door  in  the  palace-wall  opened  ;  out  came  a 
little  old  man  and  began  walking  down  the  pathway 
towards  him. 

The  soul  of  Tiki-pu  gave  a  sharp  leap  in  his  grubby 
little  body.  "  That  must  be  VVio-wani  himself  and 
no  other  !  "  cried  his  soul. 

Tiki-pu  pulled  off  his  cap  and  threw  himself  down 
on  the  floor  with  reverent  grovellings.  When  he 
dared  to  look  up  again  Wio-wani  stood  over  him  big 
and  fine  ;  just  within  the  edge  of  his  canvas  he  stood 
and  reached  out  a  hand. 

"  Come  along  with  me,  Tiki-pu  !  "  said  the  great 
one.  "  If  you  want  to  know  how  to  paint  I  will 
teach  you." 

"  Oh,  Wio-wani,  were  you  there  all  the  while  ?  " 
cried  Tiki-pu  ecstatically,  leaping  up  and  clutching 
with  his  smeary  little  puds  the  hand  which  the  old 
man  extended  to  him. 

"I  was  there,"  said  Wio-wani,  "  looking  at  you 
out  of  my  little  window.  Come  along  in  !  " 

Tiki-pu  took  a  heave  and  swung  himself  into  the 
picture,  and  fairly  capered  when  he  found  his  feet 
among  the  flowers  of  Wio-wani's  beautiful  garden. 
Wio-wani  had  turned,  and  was  ambling  gently  back 
to  the  door  of  his  palace,  beckoning  to  the  small 

202 


one  to  follow  him  ;  and  there  stood  Tiki-pu,  open- 
ing his  mouth  like  a  fish  to  all  the  wonders  that  sur- 
rounded him.  "  Celestiality,  may  I  speak  ?  "  he 
said  suddenly. 

"Speak,"  replied  Wio-wani;  "what  is  it  ?  " 

"  The  Emperor,  was  he  not  the  very  flower  of  fools 
not  to  follow  when  you  told  him  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say,"  answered  Wio-wani,  "  but  he 
certainly  was  no  artist." 

Then  he  opened  the  door,  that  door  which  he  had 
so  beautifully  painted,  and  led  Tiki-pu  in.  And  out- 
side the  little  candle-end  sat  and  guttered  by  itself, 
till  the  wick  fell  overboard,  and  the  flame  kicked  itself 
out,  leaving  the  studio  in  darkness  and  solitude  to 
wait  for  the  growings  of  another  dawn. 

It  was  full  day  before  Tiki-pu  reappeared ;  he 
came  running  down  the  green  path  in  great  haste, 
jumped  out  of  the  frame  on  to  the  studio  floor,  and 
began  tidying  up  his  own  messes  of  the  night,  and 
the  apprentices'  of  the  previous  day.  Only  just  in 
time  did  he  have  things  ready  by  the  hour  when  his 
master  and  the  others  returned  to  their  work. 

All  that  day  they  kept  scratching  their  left  ears, 
and  could  not  think  why ;  but  Tiki-pu  knew,  for  he 
was  saying  over  to  himself  all  the  things  that  Wio- 
wani,  the  great  painter,  had  been  saying  about  them 
and  their  precious  productions.  And  as  he  ground 
their  colours  for  them  and  washed  their  brushes,  and 
filled  his  famished  little  body  with  the  breadcrumbs 
they  threw  away,  little  they  guessed  from  what  an 
immeasurable  distance  he  looked  down  upon  them 
all,  and  had  Wio-wani's  word  for  it  tickling  his  right 
ear  all  the  day  long. 

203 


Now  before  long  Tiki-pu's  master  noticed  a  change 
in  him ;  and  though  he  bullied  him,  and  thrashed 
him,  and  did  all  that  a  careful  master  should  do,  he 
could  not  get  the  change  out  of  him.  So  in  a  short 
while  he  grew  suspicious.  "  What  is  the  boy  up 
to  ?  "  he  wondered.  "  I  have  my  eye  on  him  all 
day  :  it  must  be  at  night  that  he  gets  into  mischief." 
It  did  not  take  Tiki-pu's  master  a  night's  watching 
to  find  that  something  surreptitious  was  certainly 
going  on.  When  it  was  dark  he  took  up  his  post 
outside  the  studio,  to  see  whether  by  any  chance 
Tiki-pu  had  some  way  of  getting  out ;  and  before 
long  he  saw  a  faint  light  showing  through  the  window. 
So  he  came  and  thrust  his  finger  softly  through  one 
of  the  panes,  and  put  his  eye  to  the  hole. 

There  inside  was  a  candle  burning  on  a  stand, 
and  Tiki-pu  squatting  with  paint-pots  and  brush  in 
front  of  Wio-wani's  last  masterpiece. 

*  What  fine  piece  of  burglary  is  this  ?  "  thought 
he ;  "  what  serpent  have  I  been  harbouring  in  my 
bosom  ?  Is  this  beast  of  a  grub  of  a  boy  thinking  to 
make  himself  a  painter  and  cut  me  out  of  my  reputa- 
tion and  prosperity  ?  "  For  even  at  that  distance 
he  could  perceive  plainly  that  the  work  of  this  boy 
went  head  and  shoulders  beyond  his,  or  that  of  any 
painter  then  living. 

Presently  Wio-wani  opened  his  door  and  came 
down  the  path,  as  was  his  habit  now  each  night,  to 
call  Tiki-pu  to  his  lesson.  He  advanced  to  the  front 
of  his  picture  and  beckoned  for  Tiki-pu  to  come  in 
with  him  ;  and  Tiki-pu's  master  grew  clammy  at  the 
knees  as  he  beheld  Tiki-pu  catch  hold  of  Wio-wani's 
hand  and  jump  into  the  picture,  and  skip  up  the 

204 


green  path  by  Wio-wani's  side,  and  in  through  the 
little  door  that  Wio-wani  had  painted  so  beauti- 
fully in  the  end  wall  of  his  palace ! 

For  a  time  Tiki-pu's  master  stood  glued  to  the 
spot  with  grief  and  horror.  "  Oh,  you  deadly  little 
underling  !  Oh,  you  poisonous  little  caretaker,  you 
parasite,  you  vampire,  you  fly  in  amber  !  "  cried  he, 
"  is  that  where  you  get  your  training  ?  Is  it  there 
that  you  dare  to  go  trespassing  ;  into  a  picture  that 
I  purchased  for  my  own  pleasure  and  profit,  and  not 
at  all  for  yours  ?  Very  soon  we  will  see  whom  it 
really  belongs  to  !  " 

He  ripped  out  the  paper  of  the  largest  window- 
pane  and  pushed  his  way  through  into  the  studio. 
Then  in  great  haste  he  took  up  paint-pot  and  brush, 
and  sacrilegiously  set  himself  to  work  upon  Wio- 
wani's  last  masterpiece.  In  the  place  of  the  doorway 
by  which  Tiki-pu  had  entered  he  painted  a  solid 
brick  wall ;  twice  over  he  painted  it,  making  it  two 
bricks  thick ;  brick  by  brick  he  painted  it,  and 
mortared  every  brick  to  its  place.  And  when  he 
had  quite  finished  he  laughed,  and  called  "  Good- 
night, Tiki-pu !  "  and  went  home  to  be  quite 
happy. 

The  next  day  all  the  apprentices  were  wondering 
what  had  become  of  Tiki-pu ;  but  as  the  master 
himself  said  nothing,  and  as  another  boy  came  to 
act  as  colour- grinder  and  brush-washer  to  the 
establishment,  they  very  soon  forgot  all  about  him. 

In  the  studio  the  master  used  to  sit  at  work 
with  his  students  all  about  him,  and  a  mind  full  of 
ease  and  contentment.  Now  and  then  he  would 
throw  a  glance  across  to  the  bricked-up  doorway  of 

205 


Wio-wani's  palace,  and  laugh  to  himself,  thinking 
how  well  he  had  served  out  Tiki-pu  for  his  treachery 
and  presumption. 

One  day — it  was  five  years  after  the  disappearance 
of  Tiki-pu — he  was  giving  his  apprentices  a  lecture 
on  the  glories  and  the  beauties  and  the  wonders  of 
Wio-wani's  painting — how  nothing  for  colour  could 
excel,  or  for  mystery  could  equal  it.  To  add  point 
to  his  eloquence,  he  stood  waving  his  hands  before 
Wio-wani's  last  masterpiece,  and  all  his  students 
and  apprentices  sat  round  him  and  looked. 

Suddenly  he  stopped  at  mid-word,  and  broke  off 
in  the  full  flight  of  his  eloquence,  as  he  saw  something 
like  a  hand  come  and  take  down  the  top  brick  from 
the  face  of  paint  which  he  had  laid  over  the  little 
door  in  the  palace-wall  which  Wio-wani  had  so 
beautifully  painted.  In  another  moment  there  was 
no  doubt  about  it ;  brick  by  brick  the  wall  was  being 
pulled  down,  in  spite  of  its  double  thickness. 

The  lecturer  was  altogether  too  dumbfounded 
and  terrified  to  utter  a  word.  He  and  all  his  ap- 
prentices stood  round  and  stared  while  the  demoli- 
tion of  the  wall  proceeded.  Before  long  he  recog- 
nised Wio-wani  with  his  flowing  white  beard ; 
it  was  his  handiwork,  this  pulling  down  of  the  wall ! 
He  still  had  a  brick  in  his  hand  when  he  stepped 
through  the  opening  that  he  had  made,  and  close 
after  him  stepped  Tiki-pu  ! 

Tiki-pu  was  grown  tall  and  strong — he  was  even 
handsome ;  but  for  all  that  his  old  master  recog- 
nised him,  and  saw  with  an  envious  foreboding  that 
under  his  arms  l*e  carried  many  rolls  and  stretchers 
and  portfolios,  and  other  belongings  of  his  craft. 

206 


.  • 


Clearly  Tiki-pu  was  coming  back  into  the  world,  and 
was  going  to  be  a  great  painter. 

Down  the  garden  path  came  Wio-wani,  and  Tiki- 
pu  walked  after  him ;  Tiki-pu  was  so  tall  that  his 
head  stood  well  over  Wio-wani's  shoulders — old  man 
and  young  man  together  made  a  handsome  pair. 

How  big  Wio-wani  grew  as  he  walked  down  the 
avenues  of  his  garden  and  into  the  foreground  of  his 
picture  !  and  how  big  the  brick  in  his  hand  !  and  ah, 
how  angry  he  seemed  ! 

Wio-wani  came  right  down  to  the  edge  of  the 
picture-frame  and  held  up  the  brick.  "  What  did 
you  do  that  for  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I  ...  didn't ! "  Tiki-pu's  old  master  was 
beginning  to  reply  ;  and  the  lie  was  still  rolling  on  his 
tongue  when  the  weight  of  the  brick-bat,  hurled  by 
the  stout  arm  of  Wio-wani,  felled  him.  After  that 
he  never  spoke  again.  That  brick-bat,  which  he 
himself  had  reared,  became  his  own  tombstone. 

Just  inside  the  picture-frame  stood  Tiki-pu, 
kissing  the  wonderful  hands  of  Wio-wani,  which  had 
taught  him  all  their  skill.  "  Good-bye,  Tiki-pu  !  " 
said  Wio-wani,  embracing  him  tenderly.  "  Now  I 
am  sending  my  second  self  into  the  world.  When 
you  are  tired  and  want  rest  come  back  to  me  :  old 
Wio-wani  will  take  you  in." 

Tiki-pu  was  sobbing  and  the  tears  were  running 
down  his  cheeks  as  he  stepped  out  of  Wio-wani's 
wonderfully  painted  garden  and  stood  once  more 
upon  earth.  Turning,  he  saw  the  old  man  walking 
away  along  the  path  towards  the  little  door  under 
the  palace-wall.  At  the  door  Wio-wani  turned 
back  and  waved  his  hand  for  the  last  time.  Tiki- 

o  209 


pu  still  stood  watching  him.  Then  the  door  opened 
and  shut,  and  Wio-wani  was  gone.  Softly  as  a  flower 
the  picture  seemed  to  have  folded  its  leaves  over  him. 

Tiki-pu  leaned  a  wet  face  against  the  picture  and 
kissed  the  door  in  the  palace-wall  which  Wio-wani 
had  painted  so  beautifully.  "  O  Wio-wani,  dear 
master,"  he  cried,  "  are  you  there  ?  " 

He  waited,  and  called  again,  but  no  voice  answered 
him. 


210 


HAPPY  RETURNS 

BY  the  side  of  a  great  river,  whose  stream 
formed  the  boundary  to  two  countries,  lived 
an  old  ferryman  and  his  wife.  All  the  day, 
while  she  minded  the  house,  he  sat  in  his  boat  by 
the  ferry,  waiting  to  carry  travellers  across ;  or, 
when  no  travellers  came,  and  he  had  his  boat  free, 
he  would  cast  drag-nets  along  the  bed  of  the  river 
for  fish.  But  for  the  food  which  he  was  able  thus 
to  procure  at  times,  he  and  his  wife  might  well  have 
starved,  for  travellers  were  often  few  and  far  between, 
and  often  they  grudged  him  the  few  pence  he  asked 
for  ferrying  them  ;  and  now  he  had  grown  so  old  and 
feeble  that  when  the  river  was  in  flood  he  could 
scarcely  ferry  the  boat  across ;  and  continually  he 
feared  lest  a  younger  and  stronger  man  should 
come  and  take  his  place,  and  the  bread  from  his 
mouth. 

But  he  had  trust  in  Providence.  "  Will  not  God," 
he  said,  "  who  has  given  us  no  happiness  in  this  life, 
save  in  each  other's  help  and  companionship,  allow 
us  to  end  our  days  in  peace  ?  " 

And  his  wife  answered,  "  Yes,  surely,  if  we  trust 
Him  enough  He  will." 

One  morning,  it  being  the  first  day  of  the  year, 
the  ferryman  going  down  to  his  boat,  found  that 
during  the  night  it  had  been  loosed  from  its  moor- 
ings and  taken  across  the  river,  where  it  now  lay 
fastened  to  the  further  bank. 

"  Wife,"  said  he  "  I  can  remember  this  same  thing 

211 


happening  a  year  ago,  and  the  year  before  also. 
Who  is  this  traveller  who  comes  once  a  year,  like  a 
thief  in  the  night,  and  crosses  without  asking  me  to 
ferry  him  over  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  is  the  good  folk,"  said  his  wife.  "  Go 
over  and  see  if  they  have  left  no  coin  behind  them 
in  the  boat." 

The  old  man  got  on  to  a  log  and  poled  himself 
across,  and  found,  down  in  the  keel  of  the  boat,  the 
mark  of  a  man's  bare  foot  driven  deep  into  the  wood  ; 
but  there  was  no  coin  or  other  trace  to  show  who  it 
might  be. 

Time  went  on  ;  the  old  ferryman  was  all  bowed 
down  with  age,  and  his  body  was  racked  with  pains. 
So  slow  was  he  now  in  making  the  passage  of  the 
stream,  that  all  travellers  who  knew  those  parts  took 
a  road  higher  up  the  bank,  where  a  stronger  ferry- 
man plied. 

Winter  came  ;  and  hunger  and  want  pressed  hard 
at  the  old  man's  door.  One  day  while  he  drew  his 
net  along  the  stream,  he  felt  the  shock  of  a  great 
fish  striking  against  the  meshes  down  below,  and 
presently,  as  the  net  came  in,  he  saw  a  shape  like 
living  silver,  leaping  and  darting  to  and  fro  to  find 
some  way  of  escape.  Up  to  the  bank  he  landed  it, 
a  great  gasping  fish. 

When  he  was  about  to  kill  it,  he  saw,  to  his 
astonishment,  tears  running  out  of  its  eyes,  that 
gazed  at  him  and  seemed  to  reproach  him  for  his 
cruelty.  As  he  drew  back,  the  Fish  said  :  "  Why 
should  you  kill  me,  who  wish  to  live  ?  " 

The  old  man,  altogether  bewildered  at  hearing 
himself  thus  addressed,  answered  :  "  Since  I  and  my 

212 


wife  arc  hungry,  and  God  gave  you  to  be  eaten,  I 
have  good  reason  for  killing  you." 

"  I  could  give  you  something  worth  far  more  than 
a  meal,"  said  the  Fish,  "  if  you  would  spare  my  life." 

"  We  are  old,"  said  the  ferryman,  "  and  want 
only  to  end  our  days  in  peace.  To-day  we  are 
hungry  ;  what  can  be  more  good  for  us  than  a  meal 
which  will  give  us  strength  for  the  morrow,  which  is 
the  new  year  ?  " 

The  Fish  said  :  "  To-night  someone  will  come 
and  unfasten  your  boat,  and  ferry  himself  over,  and 
you  know  nothing  of  it  till  the  morning,  when  you 
see  the  craft  moored  out  yonder  by  the  further 
bank." 

The  old  man  remembered  how  the  thing  had 
happened  in  previous  years,  directly  the  Fish  spoke. 
"  Ah,  you  know  that  then  !  How  is  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  When  you  go  back  to  your  hut  at  night  to  sleep, 
I  am  here  in  the  water,"  said  the  Fish.  "  I  see  what 
goes  on." 

"  What  goes  on,  then  ?  "  asked  the  old  man,  very 
curious  to  know  who  the  strange  traveller  might  be. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  Fish,  "  if  you  could  only  catch 
him  in  your  boat,  he  could  give  you  something  you 
might  wish  for  !  I  tell  you  this  :  do  you  and  your 
wife  keep  watch  in  the  boat  all  night,  and  when  he 
comes,  and  you  have  ferried  him  into  mid-stream, 
where  he  cannot  escape,  then  throw  your  net  over 
him  and  hold  him  till  he  pays  you  for  all  your 
ferryings." 

"  How  shall  he  pay  me  ?  All  my  ferryings  of  a 
lifetime  !  " 

"  Make  him  take  you  to  the  land  of  Returning 
213 


Time.  There,  at  least,  you  can  end  your  days  in 
peace." 

The  old  man  said  :  "  You  have  told  me  a  strange 
thing ;  and  since  I  mean  to  act  on  it,  I  suppose  I 
must  let  you  go.  If  you  have  deceived  me,  I  trust 
you  may  yet  die  a  cruel  death." 

The  Fish  answered  :  "  Do  as  I  tell  you,  and  you 
shall  die  a  happy  one."  And,  saying  this  he  slipped 
down  into  the  water  and  disappeared. 

The  ferryman  went  back  to  his  wife  supperless, 
and  said  to  her  :  "  Wife,  bring  a  net,  and  come 
down  into  the  boat !  "  And  he  told  her  the  story 
of  the  Fish  and  of  the  yearly  traveller. 

They  sat  long  together  under  the  dark  bank, 
looking  out  over  the  quiet  and  cold  moonlit  waters, 
till  the  midnight  hour.  The  air  was  chill,  and  to 
keep  themselves  warm  they  covered  themselves  over 
with  the  net  and  lay  down  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat.  It  was  the  very  hour  when  the  old  year  dies 
and  the  new  year  is  born. 

Before  they  well  knew  that  they  had  been  asleep, 
they  started  to  feel  the  rocking  of  the  boat,  and 
found  themselves  out  upon  the  broad  waters  of  the 
river.  And  there  in  the  fore-part  of  the  boat,  clear 
and  sparkling  in  the  moonlight,  stood  a  naked  man 
of  shining  silver.  He  was  bending  upon  the  pole 
of  the  boat,  and  his  long  hair  fell  over  it  right  down 
into  the  water. 

The  old  couple  rose  up  quietly,  and  unwinding 
themselves  from  the  net,  threw  it  over  the  Silver 
Man,  over  his  head  and  hands  and  feet,  and  dragged 
him  down  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

The  old  man  caught  the  ferry  pole,  and  heaved  the 

214 


boat  still  into  the  middle  of  the  stream.  As  he  did 
so  a  gentle  shock  came  to  the  heart  of  each  ;  feebly 
it  fluttered  and  sank  low.  "  Oh,  wife  !  "  sighed  the 
old  man,  and  reached  out  his  hand  for  hers. 

The  Silver  Man  lay  still  in  the  folds  of  the  net, 
and  looked  at  them  with  a  wise  and  quiet  gaze. 
"  What  would  you  have  of  me  ?  "  he  said,  and  his 
voice  was  far  off  and  low. 

They  said,  "  Bring  us  into  the  land  of  Returning 
Time." 

The  Silver  Man  said  :  "  Only  once  can  you  go 
there,  and  once  return." 

They  both  answered  "  We  wish  once  to  go  there, 
and  once  return." 

So  he  promised  them  that  they  should  have 
the  whole  of  their  request ;  and  they  unloosed 
him.  from  the  net,  and  landed  altogether  on  the 
further  bank. 

Up  the  hill  they  went,  following  the  track  of  the 
Silver  Man.  Presently  they  reached  its  crest ;  and 
there  before  them  lay  all  the  howling  winter  of  the 
world. 

The  Silver  Man  turned  his  face  and  looked  back ; 
and  looking  back  it  became  all  young,  and  ruddy, 
and  bright.  The  ferryman  and  his  wife  gazed  at 
him,  both  speechless  at.  the  wonderful  change.  He 
took  their  hands,  making  them  turn  the  way  by 
which  they  had  come  ;  below  their  feet  was  a  deep 
black  gulf,  and  beyond  and  away  lay  nothing  but  a 
dark  starless  hollow  of  air. 

"  Now,"  said  their  guide,  "  you  have  but  to  step 
forward  one  step,  and  you  shall  be  in  the  land 
of  Returning  Time." 

217 


They  loosed  hold  of  his  hands,  joined  clasp, 
husband  with  wife,  and  at  one  step  upon  what 
seemed  gulf  beneath  their  feet,  found  themselves 
in  a  green  and  flowery  land.  There  were  perfumed 
valleys  and  grassy  hills,  whose  crops  stretched  down 
before  the  breeze  ;  thick  fleecy  clouds  crossed  their 
tops,  and  overhead  -amid  a  blue  air  rang  the  shrill 
trilling  of  birds.  Behind  lay,  fading  mistily  as  a 
dream,  the  bare  world  they  had  left ;  and  fast  on 
his  forward  road,  growing  small  to  them  from  a 
distance,  went  the  Silver  Man,  a  shining  point  on 
the  horizon. 

The  ferryman  and  his  wife  looked,  and  saw  youth 
in  each  other's  faces  beginning  to  peep  out  through 
the  furrows  of  age  ;  each  step  they  took  made  them 
grow  younger  and  stronger  ;  years  fell  from  them  like 
worn-out  rags  as  they  went  down  into  the  valleys 
of  the  land  of  Returning  Time. 

How  fast  Time  returned !  Each  step  made  the 
change  of  a  day,  and  every  mile  brought  them  five 
years  back  towards  youth.  When  they  came  down 
to  the  streams  that  ran  in  the  bed  of  each  valley, 
the  ferryman  and  his  wife  felt  their  prime  return  to 
them.  He  saw  the  gold  come  back  into  her  locks, 
and  she  the  brown  into  his.  Their  lips  became  open 
to  laughter  and  song.  "  Oh,  how  good,"  they  cried, 
"  to  have  lived  all  our  lives  poor,  to  come  at  last  to 
this !  " 

They  drank  water  out  of  the  streams,  and  tasted 
the  fruit  from  the  trees  that  grew  over  them ;  till 
presently,  being  tired  for  mere  joy,  they  lay  down 
in  the  grass  to  rest.  They  slept  hand  within  hand 
and  cheek  against  cheek,  and,  when  they  woke, 

218 


found  themselves  quite  young  again,  just  at  the  age 
when  they  were  first  married  in  the  years  gone  by. 

The  ferryman  started  up  and  felt  the  desire  of 
life  strong  in  his  blood.  "  Come !  "  he  said  to  his 
wife,  "  or  we  shall  become  too  young  with  lingering 
here.  Now  we  have  regained  our  youth,  let  us  go 
back  into  the  world  once  more  !  " 

His  wife  hung  upon  his  hand,  "  Are  we  not  happy 
enough,"  she  asked,  "  as  it  is  ?  Why  should  we 
return  ?  " 

"  But,"  he  cried,  "  we  shall  grow  too  young ; 
now  we  have  youth  and  life  at  its  best  let  us  return  ! 
Time  goes  too  fast  with  us ;  we  are  in  danger  of  it 
carrying  us  away." 

She  said  no  further  word,  but  followed  up  towards 
the  way  by  which  they  had  entered.  And  yet,  in 
spite  of  her  wish  to  remain,  as  she  went  her  young 
blood  frisked.  Presently  coming  to  the  top  of  a  hill, 
they  set  off  running  and  racing ;  at  the  bottom 
they  looked  at  each  other,  and  saw  themselves  boy 
and  girl  once  more. 

"  We  have  stayed  here  too  long  !  "  said  the  ferry- 
man, and  pressed  on. 

"  Oh,  the  birds,"  sighed  she,  "  and  the  flowers, 
and  the  grassy  hills  to  run  on,  we  are  leaving 
behind  !  "  But  still  the  boy  had  the  wish  for  a  man's 
life  again,  and  urged  her  on  ;  and  still  with  every 
step  they  grew  younger  and  younger.  At  length, 
two  small  children,  they  came  to  the  border  of  that 
enchanted  land,  and  saw  beyond  the  world  bleak 
and  wintry  and  without  leaf.  Only  a  further  step 
was  wanted  to  bring  them  face  to  face  once  more  with 
the  hard  battle  of  life. 

219 


Tears  rose  in  the  child-wife's  eyes  :  "  If  we  go," 
she  said,  "  we  can  never  return  !  "  Her  husband 
looked  long  at  her  wistful  face  ;  he,  too,  was  more  of 
a  child  now,  and  was  forgetting  his  wish  to  be  a  man 
again. 

He  took  hold  of  her  hand  and  turned  round  with 
her,  and  together  they  faced  once  more  the  flowery 
orchards,  and  the  happy  watered  valleys. 

Away  down  there  light  streams  tinkled,  and  birds 
called.  Downwards  they  went,  slowly  at  first,  then 
with  dancing  feet,  as  with  shoutings  and  laughter 
they  ran. 

Down  into  the  level  fields  they  ran  ;  their  running 
was  turned  to  a  toddling ;  their  toddling  to  a 
tumbling ;  their  tumbling  to  a  slow  crawl  upon 
hands  and  feet  among  the  high  grass  and  flowers ; 
till  at  last  they  were  lying  side  by  side,  curled  up 
into  a  cuddly  ball,  chuckling  and  dimpling  and 
crowing  to  the  insects  and  birds  that  passed  over 
them. 

Then  they  heard  the  sweet  laughter  of  Father 
Time ;  and  over  the  hill  he  came,  young,  ruddy, 
and  shining,  and  gathered  them  up  sound  asleep  on 
the  old  boat  by  the  ferry. 


Printed  in  Great  Britain  by  Hazell,  Watson  6-  Viney,  La., 
London  and  Aylesbury. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


121970 


51972 
1911 


Book  Slip-35r»-9,'62(D2218s4)4280 


UCLA-College  Library 

PR  4809  H18m 


L  005  705  997  4 


College 
Library 

PR 

U809 

Hl8m 


.,^.S.°.iJJHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


001299433    1 


